Second Try
by Kita Kitsune
Summary: 3/16/2012: CH. 17 UP. ON HIATUS UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE. Slightly AU. In the morning I see you against the dawn. You are stubborn, unyielding, firm. You are the other half of my restless soul. You are... Gone. H/K, Ka/K. BL, GL. Language. Violence/Gore. Yaoi.
1. Love is Love

Disclaimer: I don't own Yuu Yuu Hakusho, or any of its characters. Those belong to Yoshihiro Togashi-sama, who made a lot more out of them than I ever could have. ^^;; I just do fanfiction for fun, and earn no monetary rewards for writing it. Reviews are, of course, worth as much as silver.

Title: Second Try  
Word Count: 4,472  
Anime: Yuu Yuu Hakusho  
Pairing: KuramaxHiei, HieixKurama  
Warning: Shounen ai  
Author: Kita Kitsune  
Date: Monday(moon-day!), December 8, 2008  
Miscellaneous Notes: Eh, don't ask (about the random poem I made up at the beginning, either. Oo;;). Just… don't ask. x.x It was in me, and I had to write it_ (I have finals this week, **goddammit**, I shouldn't be writing fanfiction!)_. Reviews are silver love. :3 Please?

: : : : : : :

_Love, love, where did you go, today…_

_Are you under the moon, are you wanting to play?_

_Love, love, do I miss you so… ?_

_The body tells what the heart wants to know._

: : :

It was laughable, really. Like a punch line of one of the old tragedies…

He could still see the sunlight playing against the outline of that small, dark figure. It was dawn—the sky was touched with the strangest shade of soft pink, lines of fiery gold splayed like fine brushstrokes over the clouds gathered overhead. It was about to snow. The youkai's face was in shadow as he stood on the sill, cloak in hand and dragging slightly on the floor—he had yet to put it on. That quiet baritone was surreal.

"…it has been a good run, Kurama. But it is time to end it." Each word was like a blow unto his heart, and jade depths widened in no small amount of disbelief. A soft smile reached out from his slightly-numbed chest, but the words were calmly clear.

"…I do not believe you." The figure at the window tensed, garnet depths narrowing and minutely scanning the area in a fleeting motion—to be well-informed of any sudden attack that might be forthcoming. The instantaneous check completed, that indifferent red gaze bore down upon the redhead seated upon the bed, in the yet-darkened room as the sun behind him had not quite fully awakened.

"I did not pin you for one that would take the path of denial rather than reality, fox." That smile over the kitsune's face canted a hint warmer, and slender fingers moved over the well-worn, comfortable fabric beneath their tips. Jade depths turned to the motion, confident enough that Hiei would not leave until the conversation had reached its mutual end. Despite the hankoorime's urge to simply flit out the window and leave him behind in more than one way—no, Hiei respected him far too much, and the two demons were too wound within one another for the Jaganshi to break off the link, so easily.

"It is not denial." Dark lashes partially covered faintly glimmering emerald hues as they moved once more to the figure so poetically outlined by light, before him. "I simply do not believe you, Hiei." A snort was heard from the window—and to this the redhead quietly stood, hands pushing him gracefully from the mattress to his feet as deliberate steps allowed him to approach the figure only a meter or so away. One soft hand rose, digits tenderly tracing the outlines of a pale, unmarred cheek. Although the hankoorime did not turn from the touch, those crimson depths opposite his own were unreadable. Their gazes were even, Hiei's position on the sill putting him conveniently at eye-level.

"Why… ?" It was the softest whisper, nearly unheard—but those ruby depths frowned, a wrist coming up to brush Kurama's hand from his face as his own canted off to the side, gaze idly averted to a corner of the slowly-lightening room. The pain deeply buried within his—former—lover's gaze was too much, as he was unaccustomed to strong emotions such as this, which the humanized fox was so rife with. He did love Kurama. He did want to stay by the kitsune's side, and help him fight the inner battles the redhead could not win, on his own. He did want to stay within those safe arms that held him as though he were the single most important person in all of the Three Worlds… if anything, it made him feel wanted. But, he did not want to give of himself. Hiei was strong. Hiei was independent. Hiei did not need a weak-willed kitsune that had an irritating tendency to boss him around, enrage him as well as make him feel a slow painful ache in his chest whenever the fox was sad—whenever Kurama did not shield his depression from him. A human world full of restrictions and regulations was taxing upon a formerly carefree, wild youko spirit…

Hiei was not Weak, unlike Kurama who allowed others to dictate his actions. The most prominent example was his mother, and the façade the redhead suffered to keep up her blissful ignorance of his true nature. Hiei steeled his thoughts, that utterly expressionless stare returning to swiftly-moistening verdant hues. The unshed tears merely collected in the eyes, causing the bright irises to glimmer tragically against the sun that began to poke out from the horizon to greet his back. None fell. Kurama was far too experienced with holding his emotions in to the extent that Hiei was surprised the fox didn't contract ulcers and migraines from all the stress it must be to continue his unflinching mirage of cool, collected dignity. That smoothly-featured face hardened, determination not flashing in his dangerous eyes but instead lining the set angle of his jaw.

"We do nothing different, kitsune. Month after month it is the same tedious routine." Hiei lowered his voice, a soft hiss edging the tone. "I grow weary of it."

"You're... bored… ?" A quiet blink greeted that—and the ebony-haired demon saw a brief flicker of heart-rending agony before it was swiftly concealed behind yet another habitual smile. Kurama's smiles were all so… false. Save the smirks in battle, very rarely did a genuine one reach into his eyes amidst the numerous covering curves that assailed his face, daily. A strange contrast to Hiei—he did not smile, but the few that escaped under unforeseen circumstances were true. His mouth tightened upwards at a corner, a twisted, mocking after-image of the defiantly arrogant almost-smiles that flew over his face during a particularly enjoyable battle.

"Hn." Long fingers moved to brush along the bared skin of the fire youkai's arm, emerald depths falling to watch the action in an absent habit. They trailed over bandages wrapped around only the Jaganshi's forearm—no black dragon tattoo lay beneath them, this side of his chest. Hiei was still in his original position, the Kokuryu-bearing arm facing the cold winter air as he stood upon the sill at a slight angle, the dark cloak clutched in the bandaged fingers and dragging down to collect in a few wrinkled folds on the smooth wood floor. The next comment was the breathy exhale of a word, a sigh, or merely a scarcely-concealed brace to battle the pain that was no doubt raging within.

"Hiei…" Molten green depths rose from beneath scarlet bangs—still glimmering sadly in the newborn rays that began to touch the ceiling of the kitsune's room. "Why didn't you tell me?" The Jaganshi's chin raised a notch, in unconscious defiance.

"Perhaps you do not know me as well as you assumed, if you could not tell." The effects of the verbal blow caused another flash of pain to seep into that verdant gaze… and Hiei turned away, whirling the cloak about his shoulders—the action successfully causing Kurama to withdraw his hand from the undamaged, bandaged arm it had rested upon. Garnet depths turned towards the sky, seemingly caught at the breathtaking beauty the half-sunrise granted those who could see it—but they weren't, really. "You knew this wouldn't last, kitsune. It was only another chance, after betraying me for Yuusuke..." The comment was bland, and held no accusation. It was merely a statement of fact—nonetheless, Kurama winced, and a brief smattering of images relating to the statement crossed the redhead's thoughts as that endearing black blur disappeared from his windowsill and into the cold winter morning, where small flurries of white had already begun to dance in the air.

Closing the window and turning, the kitsune slumped softly onto the cool glass behind with a shuddery sigh. His tears had long since 'dried'—although none had fallen—as the threatening moisture that had collected within them had vanished with the other's departure. No, he would not blame Hiei. He never could—hell, Kurama couldn't even hate him. It had been nearly a year since they had permitted themselves to indulge in one another's affections… and the kitsune had taken it all in stride, not allowing himself to shut Hiei off after he'd been dismissed so curtly from his previous 'lover' status and instead only keeping up the friendly smiles and teasing that personified his—then platonic—relationship with the little spitfire. Stepping over to the bed, that lithe form stretched out on its back upon it, a hand coming to rest over his stomach in thought as green depths closed, allowing his mind to—at last—wander into memory.

He recalled their first stint of a relationship—back, before they had joined the Reikai Tantei, and had plotted that heist of the Three Sacred Artifacts for six months. They had been drawn together, not long after Hiei found him, after Yatsude… but once the items were retrieved, it began to get tricky. Kurama had seen the liaison as a distraction from his own pain, a last-ditch effort to greet his death at his mother's expense with the comfort that, at least, he had found a lasting love that he could share without his youko self's shallow tendency for one-night-stands—it had nearly been enough to cause him to regret his decision to let the Mirror take his life. Nearly. Kurama had left the group after they returned from the Reikai, back then, with the intent to spare Hiei the pain of loss—as well as assert that the Mirror could be used for his own devices. He had not told the Jaganshi the price the Artifact extracted from its user.

As Yuusuke fought against Gouki that first time in the forest clearing, however… the hankoorime had caught up with him shortly after he disappeared into the trees, and had forced the truth out of him—quite literally, with the business side of his katana—for this sudden abandonment. His former accomplice did not take well to the 'abandonment'(as Hiei saw it), which Kurama did not understand so well, not knowing the demon's history. In Makai, one would think a youkai would be used to such a state of affairs… It was curious, but the shorter youkai was nothing if not secretive. Even after they had reinstated their relationship, so recently, once more drawn closer by the events of the Four Saint Beasts mission (Hiei had looked so _worried_ when Genbu had sliced the fox's stomach open from that cowardly behind-the-back lunge, and Kurama recalled the chilled sensation in his gut as Seiryuu's ice attacks hit home—even if they had only momentarily immobilized the then-unknown fire demon) and the Dark Tournament (Kurama seemed to be perpetually doomed to be injured when fighting, especially that last bloody confrontation with Karasu, and Hiei's constant agonizing efforts to try to quickly master the Jaou Ensatsu-Ken were nothing if not somewhat self-destructively stubborn)—the hankoorime had kept up his stoic front of independence. It was burned into Hiei's mind that he had to be strong—not surprising, considering he had spent his more tender years (if they could ever be called that) in Makai—and as such, he had never entrusted Kurama with his own thoughts and weaknesses. That little fire youkai was as complex as he himself was, only in different ways.

Kurama knew he tended to be able to hold a one-sided conversation, even when the little demon was in the room… it calmed him, somewhat, to speak of the daily human trials he was put through, how a classmate's blunder was mildly amusing, how his teacher once again called on him to read aloud the English poetry in their language class. Yes, given enough time and the right company, the redhead could cheerily go on for hours talking about positively nothing—and that, of course, was the problem. The kitsune was so self-sacrificing, so attuned to the needs of others, that even in his own mind he did not place himself first. The words that would run from his mouth painted the illusion that he was so very close to Hiei—indeed, he would have to be, to feel at ease enough to disclose such meaningless details of his life—but Kurama's own musings and reactions were conspicuously absent. Hiei knew him well enough to know that it was not intentional—sometimes, the hankoorime would stop him in his absent ranting, look the kitsune straight in the eye and ask him to talk about himself. Kurama would blink, drawn speechless for an instant before taking up a warm—oddly genuine—smile, and ask Hiei to ask him what he wanted to know. The Jaganshi would snort, then, slumping back onto his perch—either the window, a corner of the room, or the bed—and mutter something about just wanting the stupid kitsune to talk about himself. Feeling inadequate about not knowing where to start, the redhead gave a good few attempts the first times it happened… but ended up talking about his mother, or old heists he had pulled as Youko, or various types of plants—and Hiei would growl, frustrated, and tell him to just drop it. It had been months, now, since the hankoorime had asked that.

That said, the kitsune was an incredibly selfish person, who would do practically anything within reason to get what he wanted. Back when they'd first started, the redhead had plainly made his intentions known (other than the dying bit) and Hiei had quietly acquiesced. Kurama hadn't thought they would last so long as they did—and his heart was still sore from Kuronue. The bat youkai had died too soon before his own reincarnation as Suuichi… even after fifteen-odd years, the loss still tore at his heart, keeping him distant from his human classmates and thus, the usual experiences found in adolescence. The large, painful scar on his heart made the kitsune reluctant to share what was deeply within, to anyone, and had conditioned certain habits. Surely, Shiori didn't know, but Hiei had been steadfast, saying time and time again that he would not leave the fox. Slowly, the little demon had sunk into his skin, fire wrapping around his heart in a way that warmed him and made him feel not so alone in this strange new world he had inhabited for over a decade, while at the same time soothing the deep cuts of the murdered love from his past—and all without knowing of Kuronue, at all. It made the fox ache all the more, almost overriding his sense of duty to save his mother and repay her for all she had done. Her love was of a different kind, unconditional, steady but like glass—she was only human, after all, and there would be some things that plagued him that he could never divulge. Hiei's love made him burn to hear that quiet, dark voice, feel the warm touch of his hand, marvel at the wildness of his eyes, his soul, the innocence of his expression in sleep... Hiei had been so relieved, and so angry, when he at last realized the cost of wishing on the Mirror of Utter Dark. Hiei had watched as Yuusuke saved Kurama—the kitsune had felt him watching, even if his ki was invisible—the Jaganshi frozen still in horror… but the redhead's small act to repay the human boy, while understandable, was inconceivable to Hiei's too-sensitive mind. Kurama had betrayed him for the human…

A diminutive dark shadow was curled in the embrace of an evergreen tree, some kilometers away in the park. The black cloak was wrapped tightly around as though to fend off the cold—ruby depths glanced mildly upward to take in the snow-filled sky overhead. Big, fat flakes floated lazily down and began to pile on the branches. His eyes caught one and watched it until it was out of sight, vision blurring the present as his mind was full. He and the kitsune were so different…

Hiei made no mistake to project who was the most important figure in his life: Himself. He trained hard, raising his youki levels and swordsmanship through brutal exercises and giving no thought to his own emotions beneath it all. What was important was that he would remain strong. No amount of 'love' would ever change that… but he had been a bit misguided, in this view. Kurama was, it turned out, the one person he would always defend—despite his own strength. The kitsune had caught him, and it terrified him… he had had too many relationships that never went past a bit of flirting—his unsettled, sadistic nature drew some of the kinder ones away while at the same time attracting the shallow sort that thought they could 'change' him into something more 'acceptable'. Those people were rudely awakened when they realized how little Hiei actually _did_ care about their opinions, and those demons would then toss him aside with a few messy, hurtful words about how cold he was, how cruel he was to play them along like that.

The only thing was—he didn't _try_ to play them. People were drawn to him for reasons he could not explain, and every time he let someone in they ended up hurting him irreversibly. By the time he met Kurama, it was after a string of seemingly-endless shallow flings that lasted no more than a few weeks, each. Oh, there had been one, early on, that he had loved and still loved, in a part of his heart, forever—but cruel tricks had been played by a jealous onlooker, tormenting the hankoorime with lies he half-believed and nearly breaking his mind until, in the end, the best solution for everyone was just to part ways and never see each other, again…

But oh, Kurama.

The kitsune had been a breath of fresh air in his otherwise-tormented existence. The fox genuinely cared, was genuinely interested in who he was, not how powerful or cute or cruel he was. The redhead easily adapted to the Jaganshi's sadistic side with no effort at all, and they had been perfect. …and then, the doubts began to creep into his mind. Hiei couldn't help it—every relationship he had had involved someone discovering something awful (to their mind) about him, and dropping him instantly, turning around and biting him with words that slashed his hidden heart to ribbons. This was how he had learned that it was best to say nothing at all. His lovers could come to their own conclusions, place their own judgments upon him, and if they wished to leave because of his callousness he would not stop them. Hiei could not believe that Kurama would be any different.

Those first six months had been a cautious bubble of euphoria—which he, himself, had popped. He had stubbornly refused to enter into a relationship with the fox for a good year after the Yuusuke incident. But, after the Dark Tournament, as he was yet confined to Ningenkai… he found himself resting outside the kitsune's bedroom window, once more. It did not take three months of nights for him to come inside, nor many more at all for friendly conversation to turn to soft declarations of feelings that had never faded—on the redhead's part, solely, of course. Hiei would never admit to regret.

And now… now, it had only been a few months, and he was 'bored'—'bored' of the routine where Kurama would come home, pull the hankoorime into his lap, murmur something affectionate into his ear, kiss his cheek and only then go to work at his schoolwork. 'Bored', because he was stuck in Ningenkai with no excitement, as the barrier prevented any demons coming through and livening things up a bit. 'Bored' because it was no fun to train with Kurama at all anymore, because he could predict the kitsune's actions and reactions without conscious thought. 'Bored', because nothing was changing and new. 'Bored', because he was happy…

His thoughts stilled. The hankoorime shifted restlessly in his tree, unable to get comfortable. Irritated, he stood, flitting off with the intent of venting his frustration on the wildlife. As he could not return to the Makai, with the barrier up as it was, he would make due by slaughtering animals in some remote region of Japan's northernmost island. It was isolated, there, and cold… perfect. Just the same as Hyouga—no. Cold meant that he would have to keep his ki up, and constantly having it raised would force his body to adapt to the expended energy. It was all just another form of training, like the Spirit Cuffs Yuusuke had worn during the last few days of the Dark Tournament.

He was strong, he would outlive this. Kurama would outlive this. This reassurance in mind, he jumped quickly into the cool sky, blurring far, far away from the Tokyo metropolis and the one particular youki that resided within its borders…

: : :

It had been two months.

He had not heard word of Hiei since, and… to be honest, his grades were suffering—if rather unnoticeably (it was dreadfully noticeable to him)—due to problems with concentration, chiefly. It was hard, too hard, to keep up the high expectations now—always, oh always, over the past two years Hiei had been by his side. Now, to be rid of it, so abruptly…

Kurama felt as though he were suffocating. There was a pressure on his chest, and the depression that always lingered in the back of his mind was teasing at him, once more—mocking him and his weakness, mocking his growing realization of just how much he needed Hiei by his side, to remain sane in this strange world…

It had never been this hard, before. Not in all his long days of recollection could he remember being this… crushed wasn't the right word. Nor was heartbroken. He had no doubt that Hiei would one day return to him—he firmly believed this. It wasn't denial. It was faith. The Jaganshi had not said that Kurama did not make him happy, any longer. Since it was possibly a new emotion for the hankoorime, the redhead did not give it a second thought, dismissing the situation as Hiei's being unfamiliar with how to deal with being in a safe, unconditional relationship. The first month had passed without event. Well, other than the strange water that would collect around the corners of his eyes, some nights and mornings—a few droplets allowed to seep into the pillow, if that—that he would brush off as allergies or an attempt of his eyes to remoisten the bloodshot sclera from nights spent going almost obsessively over his notes. He would read a paragraph once, then blink and realize he recalled nothing of it. This would lead to a frustrated second reading, and by the third he would want to through either the book or his notebook at the wall.

Shiori seemed concerned, as well—he had always been rather introverted, but the last few weeks he had seemed less studious and slept more. The video games her son used to strictly play only on the weekends were being cycled through—he never played any one game for too long, now. It was as though he was becoming restless, indecisive… and it worried her. Whenever she would inquire if he were all right, though, he would look up as though caught and then smile disarmingly, attributing it only to feeling the stress of school. But, school had never given Suuichi such problems before… She let it go, not wanting to pressure him into telling her anything he didn't want to. Shiori knew that her dear, unique son kept things from her—she would merely have to wait for him to come to her of his own accord, and until then she would keep a distant, motherly eye on him, just to be safe… To Kurama, himself, he noticed her concern and worked all the harder to conceal his pain from her—he didn't wish to worry her. The strange nature of the relationship aside (he was inexplicably grateful that he had mentioned to her some years ago that he was 'quite possibly' bisexual, simply to lessen the blow should he one day bring home a boyfriend instead of a girl—and she had accepted it without question, only a supportive smile and a nod), it simply wasn't in his nature to divulge his own inner torment before he had figured out precisely what he was feeling, himself.

He knew it had to do with Hiei, this suffocating feeling, and the sinking sensation that he needed Hiei more than Hiei needed him was beginning to make him feel very weak and foolish, indeed. He was Youko Kurama! He had cared for no one and nothing, excluding Kuronue, before his reincarnation as a human—and yet… The endless worry about the Jaganshi's state was nearly overpowering. The redhead _wanted_ to look for him, but school duty bound him not to go too far from his home. At the same time, he wondered if Hiei had even contemplated the possibility of Kurama being this affected from his absence. …Likely not.

But oh, if Hiei had thought Kurama was strong and a worthy ally, before—he would doubtlessly be classified under 'weak', now. It was maddening, that this human heart and its intense emotions would carry him so far away under the tide of his usual melancholic temperament. The pressure on his chest would not cease. For the first time in fifteen years Kurama seriously considered seeing a Ningenkai psychologist…

The kitsune glanced at the clock, and winced. How did it get to be so late? …By which, of course, was still rather early in the course of the usual AM-PM day. He sighed, tossing his class' English poetry book onto his desk, clicking off the lamp and climbing into bed. He'd bathed some hours ago, as was the usual routine, and so felt clean enough sinking into the bedcovers, nosing against the soft plush of the pillow. Fingers itched and took it between them, and a few moments later Kurama found himself nuzzling into the cool thing, arms firmly wrapped around it, holding it dearly to his chest. The usual moisture found its way to his closed eyes as he lay there, and he tolerated it for a few minutes before withdrawing a hand to have a few slim digits rub away the small, stagnant droplets. He really needed to get more sleep, and give his eyes more time to rest. This habit of his body was becoming a bit depressing—

Despite the fact it was the closest he'd come to crying, since Hiei's departure.

~*~To Be Continued?~*~


	2. Missing

Disclaimer: I don't own Yuu Yuu Hakusho, or any of its characters. Those belong to Yoshihiro Togashi-sama, who made a lot more out of them than I ever could have. ^^;; I just do fanfiction for fun, and earn no monetary rewards for writing it. Reviews are, of course, worth as much as silver.

Title: Second Try

Chapter Two: Missing

Word Count: 5,887

Anime: Yuu Yuu Hakusho

Pairing: KuramaxHiei, ?xKurama

Warning: Shounen ai, violence

Author: Kita Kitsune

Date: Saturday(earth-day!), July 25, 2009

Miscellaneous Notes: I honestly started writing this chapter the day before my birthday (May 23rd), and then got sucked into a family birthday party after I'd written about eight pages of it. D: Yeah, the party was nice, but I was writing~! …Anyway. I finished up the last two pages of this chapter early in the morning with little sleep in about an hour, so if it seems weird near the end that's probably due to the two-month hiatus before I could sit down and write again. Gah! I'd really appreciate any comments on this fic. Really, really. Silver love, remember~! :3

Misc. Notes(Tuesday, July 28, 2009): Some people are feeling really lucky right about now, I bet. I don't check this account too regularly, anymore, and I'm sure a number of you feel 'blessed' that I actually posted this chapter only three days after I posted it on my other account(see how long it took me to get the second chapter of 'Loss' on here, as compared to when I posted it on my AFF account, for a reference. xD). Lovely reviews are lovely and always, always appreciated. :3

Further Notes(a few minutes later, same day as previously listed): ...I really wish my html for italics and bold would work on FF. D: It's a pain to have to go through a chapter and delete what of the html code showed up (usually a b or i at the beginning, and a b/ or i/ at the end, so if I missed a few or if you've seen that in other more recent fanfics of mine, sorry) and select a single word just to get the point across. I try not to use them too much because of that little annoyance... but sometimes the story just needs the italics and bolds, in certain places. x.x Thus, my endless frustration... (pwetty pwease review and mwake mwe fweel all bwetters fors making 'dis chwapters pwetties for ywou? ;.; )

: : : : : : :

~Four Months Later~

Little had changed in the weeks that followed, other than he'd grown too used to being alone, now. Alone in the endless stretch of humanity that pressed upon him, daily. Oh, his mother was all well and good… but the rest of them, he found were beginning to chafe. That telltale sparkle that always gave the humanoid kitsune an odd sort of appeal was nowhere to be seen. Even his admirers had begun to notice the way his eyes would turn on them, empty despite the perfect smile curling over his lips—as though the soul behind them was darker, more subdued than in years past.

Hiei had been gone… for how long, now?

The Dark Tournament seemed years away—no, not that the little koorime had been at all encouraging of their relationship, during that time… but… the softer memories, ones not associated with blood and gore were what assaulted his mind, daily. It made it all the more painful when he slipped out of those daydreams and would glance towards the window of his room on some half-dead hope that a familiar form would have alighted there, staring out at the night…

The compact mirror in his pocket beeped, and the former thief slipped quietly into the shadows of an alleyway before slender fingers curled around the device, pulling it out and flipping it open. No surprise—the blue-haired ferry girl's bright face lit up the display, and he offered yet another habitual smile towards her in greeting as she began to speak, voice lightly fuzzed by interference of some sort.

"K-Kurazzt! Koenmzzzzt-mawants youzzto—" He paused, interrupting her with a calm tone.

"Botan, I'm afraid you're coming in rather sporadically. The signal's being interrupted by something. Do you need me to move?" Here he could see her static-wrought face (an effect of the malfunctioning device, no doubt) pause, blinking at him as she shook her head, mouth opening to—

Pffffzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

He would not have been the least bit surprised (had this been one of the more common cell phone devices), to have read the blinking words 'Call Dropped' on the screen now filled with grey static. The redhead sighed, pocketing the communicator and continuing on his way. Perhaps… not home, this time. The former youko found in himself a desire to run, to simply pop into Makai for a brief span of time, transform to his kitsune-self and run through the deadly forests of his homeworld until he was exhausted.

"Minamino-kuuun!" …but it was not to be. The tall boy turned, offering yet another smile towards the girls that were running towards him—no doubt intent on receiving help with studies or asking for a date, of sorts…

Human existence had become so wearying without the daily distraction and company of his favored youkai.

: : :

"Eh? What's that? Kurama's in trouble… ?" A swift nod greeted this, blue head bobbing on the circular screen of the communicator held at an almost careless angle between rough fingers. Roan depths blinked at her. "How do you know?"

"_Well_, his communicator wasn't working and there was interference and Reikai devices inever/i get interference unless it's from some sort of spirit realm creature hovering around someone or if they're in a realm—like when you were in Maze Castle—where the spiritually-charged atmosphere interferes with the signal and then I lost him because the call dropped and—"

"**Okay**, I get it, Botan. I'm on my way to check on him." And he would have closed the compact with that, already ready to move—but the ferry girl shrieked in an attempt to get his attention before the fateful 'click' that would disconnect the call.

"Yuusuke! Wait! Koenma-sama doesn't want you going after Kurama! We've finally located Hiei!" Here the brunet paused—and thus, reopened the device to its fullest extent, images of his not-quite-human 'friend' running through his mind… as well as Kurama. He'd seemed—off, somehow. Something wasn't right, in his aura. Damn it all if he could tell what it was, though… the youko was too good at hiding things.

"…Well?" He asked impatiently after a few moments' pause from the Reikai emissary on the other end. "Where is Three Eyes?" Botan hesitated, again, fuchsia depths watching him quietly.

"He's in Hokkaido. Koenma-sama wants you to go and bring him back to this city." Unseen, her thoughts played out behind another pause… _Koenma-sama doesn't like the fact that, despite Makai being barred to Hiei, he can't keep tabs on him as well as he could if he were restricted to just one city… the city where his other Reikai Tantei happen to reside._

Yuusuke snorted.

"What, you expect Hiei to come? Just like that?" Here the girl pursed her lips, pointing at him through the communicator, the pad of her index finger pressing against the screen.

"Only if it's you, Yuusuke! We can't send Kuwabara on this—" She shook her head. "Besides, with Kuwabara's enhanced spiritual sense he's more likely to be able to find out what's going on with Kurama. It has to be iyou/i that goes and gets Hiei back. No one else! This is an order from Koenma-sama!" Here her tone became less authoritative, and her eyes softened in what might have been sadness, cutting off any smartass response the brunet might have given, to being 'ordered around'. "…Please, Yuusuke. It's taken us six months to find Hiei, since he disappeared from the city. Something isn't right. Please find him and bring him back."

"…Che!" He mumbled as the signal cut out, flipping the device shut—albeit with a bit of bad humor, disguising the uneasiness he felt at the situation. It wasn't like Hiei to just take off without a word—well, actually it iwas/i, but he usually at least told Kurama where he was going, so the kitsune could inform the rest of the team as to his whereabouts (if he were needed). This time, though… the redhead had seemed unusually withdrawn after the koorime's departure. Sure, the fox was always a quiet guy (unless you made him mad), but… that, accompanied with the lengthy absence of their short friend seemed a strange coincidence. Perhaps they'd had a fight? He should find Kurama—but, maybe he should call Kuwabara, first. No telling what shit Hiei had gotten himself into, and he'd be closer to finding out (and possibly 'rescuing' the Jaganshi—he couldn't deny the thought made him smirk), the sooner he left. Flipping open his compact again, he pressed the button to dial Kuwabara.

Although he hated to say it, he had to make a decision as team leader, here. Koenma's 'orders' aside… Kuwabara really wasn't fast or strong enough to be able to bring Hiei back. In the wrong mood, the koorime would just get pissed off at the carrot-top and disappear somewhere else for an indefinite amount of time until he was found, again. At least this time he'd stayed in Japan (Hokkaido was only a few hours' bullet train ride away, after all), but if he took off again it could be another couple of months of searching to locate the youkai. No way Yuusuke was going to be tormented by his curiosity that long…

_No, it has to be me. And it has to be **now.** _Besides, Kuwabara could go check out what was going on with the kitsune…

"Moshimo—Urameshi!"

"Hey, Kuwabara. Listen—"

: : :

Koenma slumped back in his chair, with a sigh. Stubby fingers pinched the bridge of his nose, massaging the spot there. The scene—a two-year-old, apparently suffering from a migraine—might have looked hilarious to someone who didn't know the would-be toddler was actually centuries of years old.

The never-ending stack of papers was only seeming to grow bigger as time passed, and after this brief respite he took up his stamp once more, leaning forward to continue his documenting and approving or rejecting of various appeals… ugh, there were so many.

_Ugurashi Hinate, thirty-five-year-old human male killed in a gas leak of his home. Wife and son spared, as they were out of the house. Appeal for reinstatement to Ningenkai to finish up some family business. _

He didn't have time for this. Did all people think they were special?! If everyone was an exception, what sort of rules did they have! People died when they were scheduled to! And with his father breathing down his neck to 'keep at it, and enforce the rules' he made… Oh, the godling just _hated_ it! Yet—he knew it would only get worse as time went on. When his father died, he would be forced into the 'real' job. There were simply too many spirits to make an exception of all of them!

All of these ridiculous appeals… didn't people know there were_ rules_?! You didn't just _die_, and then get to do whatever you wanted. He didn't have a choice but to reject them all—but still, they needed this system, so the spirits could at least think that they had a chance at receiving an 'accepted' on their appeal form.

_**Rejected.**_

_Atoshi Saya… driven by revenge…_

_**Rejected.**_

_Subarashii Hanae… child, died in the hospital…_

_**Rejected.**_

_Tanaka Chisato… fatally mauled… lion… safari in Africa…_

_**Rejected.**_

_Nakamura Kayla… born American, Japanese ancestry… clogged arteries, fatal heart attack…_

_**Rejected.**_

_Kanisawa Takashi… died while summoning the occult in Tokyo…_

_**Rejec—**_

..Wait. The occult? He knew some humans still believed in it, but… The toddler leaned over the paper, narrowed gaze scanning down the vertical columns of the report.

_Eighteen-year-old, worked as a waiter in a 'Cosplay Café', raised in foster care, parents died at an early age…_

Just history. Golden brown eyes scanned further down the page, to the death report.

_Was intent on calling a malign spirit to share his soul with._

Disgust welled up in him. There were always these detestable people… giving up their souls to demons, and such. Were they fools? If anything, the sorts of demons they would summon would not seek to share, only eat the offered s—

_Soul not found._

Koenma felt a cold chill race up his spine. Oh, but these were the worst. If someone's soul had been eaten, they couldn't reincarnate. Their cycle would simply… stop. It was worse than dying. If your soul was completely consumed, all of your collected karma, anything and everything you had done or had ever been was just… gone. There was no coming back—and this boy had been one to iinvite/i it upon himself. Annoyed, now—both at the nature of the file and that the pause to actually read it to more depth than the others had wasted precious stamping time, he hurriedly made to judge the appeal—wait. Who had appealed it, if the soul was not present? He fleetingly glanced at the file again, stamp hovering over it. Amber eyes widened.

_Appeal requested by: Kanisawa Meirin, age eleven._

Hurriedly, the demigod shuffled through his papers—finding not what he was searching for, he pressed the intercom, barking an order to the blue ogre on the other side.

"Jorge! Get me the file on Kanisawa Meirin, death date—" Narrowed depths scanned the page, widening as they set upon the date that set her apart from all the other 'Kanisawa Meirin's in the documented listing of Reikai files.

Seven months ago, to the day.

The day after the Ankoku Buujutsukai ended.

"…Koenma-sama?" The blue ogre's voice prodded tentatively to the sudden silence of his boss, but that golden gaze was fixed intently on the simple black-and-white print that told him the sister had died the same day as her occult-summoning brother. The very day after the Dark Tournament had concluded.

There could only be one reason that she, easy prey, had been spared. His mind raced.

For a demon to discard a child's soul—a defenseless, pure and tender meal… and yet, focus on the more tainted older brother's… it could only mean--

Someone was trying to return to the physical plane. Of all the demons that had died at the Dark Tournament… one would have to be strong enough to survive a day without a physical body—with enough youki to sustain them, despite being dead. Koenma could think of none that had had any youki when they died… naturally, if they had had youki, they iwouldn't/i have died! It was a frustrating thought—and his mind couldn't determine all the demons who might have been powerful enough to survive death. They all had idied/i, and that was the end of it. The Tournament had been a hellish nightmare for the entire Urameshi Team from beginning to end. He had no desire to revisit those memories.

The ruffled godling snapped an irritated response to the increasingly-anxiety-ridden-and-nervously-babbling oni on the other end of his intercom.

"Jorge! Get back to work!"

The brunet threw the paper down, fingers firmly locking it against the desk as he brought his stamp around.

Regardless. It was utterly inconsequential, and he had work to do. It was too much of a coincidence to suppose that the demon that had taken this little girl's brother's soul would be a former (in this case, deceased) contestant in the Ankoku Buujutsukai. Centuries of experience told him it was improbable and impossible. The demonic spirit would have had to travel over the barrier between Hanging Neck Island and the Ningenkai without deteriorating! From there, it would have had to have the wherewithal to gravitate towards the summoning ceremony and the singular sense of purpose to make it to Tokyo! Impossible! The stamp came down, judging the girl's request to have her brother's soul found. Just another run-of-the-mill occult ceremony victim.

They were foolish people, anyway, who only asked for trouble by seeking to summon demons.

**_Rejected._**

: : :

Long legs wandered along somewhat aimlessly, the bearer of them being lost in deep thought. Urameshi had seemed rather snide in his 'asking' for a favor for him to check on the fox member of their team. Was it really as bad as all that? Surely he'd noticed the change in the kitsune's aura, since Hiei had left… while the brunet may not have seen it, the simple way there were traces of pink around the Jaganshi's purple energy and glimmers of violet at the edges of the youko's fuchsia ki gave no room for doubt in his mind.

They had been training together, excessively. Of course he knew that they were closest to one another as opposed to he and Urameshi—it was too obvious! Kurama and Hiei fit together like he, the Number One Delinquent at Sarayashiki Junior High, and Urameshi did! He snorted to himself, head tipping up to give a glare towards some ruffians looking to be plotting to accost some poor old lady stepping out of the convenience store. The carrot-top stopped just beside her, smiling kindly towards the elderly woman struggling with her bags, leaning down to—

"Here, Obaasan, let me help you with—"

SMACK.

When his vision cleared he found he was on the ground, the old lady blinking curiously down at him, bereft of her bags as a very irate granddaughter who had to be in her mid-twenties glared down at him.

"Pervert! Leave my 'baachan alone!" Huffing angrily, she kicked him once, in the stomach, which he curled in to protect as she gently (quite a contrast to her actions towards him) put a hand on her grandmother's shoulder, guiding her off towards the parking lot with only a few suspicious glances back towards the lanky boy sprawled out on the sidewalk.

Oh, and he could hear the aforementioned ruffians snickering in the alley not so far away. _That_ got his goat! He stood, bristling and eyes full of anger, brandishing his fists.

"Who's that! Who's laughing at the Great Kuwabara Kazuma-sama?!?! Get out of here before I beat you to a bloody pulp!!" The boys sneered at him, but seemed not to want a fight (they must be a few years younger), as they slinked back into the alleyway silently. Kuwabara snorted to himself. _Stupid kids… playing all tough when they won't even face a challenge, like men._

He resumed his walk, no worse for the wear (no matter how strong that lady's granddaughter had been, her punches were no match for Urameshi's—or Shizuru's, or Keiko's, to be honest), still puzzling over the strange turn of events. Hiei had been gone for a while, now—he wasn't sure the amount of time, exactly. A couple months, maybe? Kurama had grown more withdrawn as a result… did he miss the little squirt that much? Sure, Hiei was sort of strong—but no match for he himself, surely! Although perhaps part of it had to do with them both being demons. The carrot-top nodded sagely, to that. It must be the reason the fox seemed so quiet, as of late.

Regardless if Urameshi had asked him to check on Kurama, or not… he'd been planning to visit him, anyway. Kurama's mother made the best cookies, and he saw the other redhead less and less, and while he'd never had a reason to _look_ for a demonic shadow hovering around the fox—he'd always assumed it was just some of Youko's ki, poking out under the surface (who could blame Kurama if that were the case, given that the Dark Tournament had ended with the legendary fox youkai emerging in the kitsune's final battle)—Kuwabara tended not to notice things like that, unless he was looking for them, anyway. It was alright. Despite all effeminate appearances, the youko was _not_ someone to mess with. His opinion of the redheaded boy had gone up, sharply, from that initial fight with Genbu—maybe it had something to do with how mercilessly he dealt with that sword-hand guy (was it Ruru or Roto or something like that?) in his first fight and many of his other opponents in the Ankoku Buujutsukai. He shuddered to think of it. Hell, even Urameshi wasn't that badass. He didn't purposely kill just to ensure a victory… Ah, but now his thoughts were circling.

A frown passed over his face, brows knitting in consternation. Demons. Who knew how their minds worked? Hell knew he'd never been able to figure Urameshi out, but…

A blink interrupted his new train of thought, and he paused to turn around, examining the markings on the doors. The Minamino house was around here, somewhere—it was only two stops down from Sarayashiki, and a couple blocks from the station. Squinting, he craned his neck to the side, trying to see the further addresses, better.

Damn. Had it been so long that he'd really forgotten the way? Not to mention that it was impossible to find anything in Japan if you didn't know _right_ where it was… He was puzzling over this when a surprised voice broke into his musing from behind.

"…Kuwabara-kun?" The lanky boy whipped around, a wide smile on his face at the slightly inquisitive—and instantly-recognized—voice, brown eyes catching his own in a mildly surprised expression, a demure smile canting over the middle-aged woman's lips. "…what ever are you doing here?" In her arms was a big brown bag of groceries, two or three plastic ones dangling from around her forearms.

"Minamino-san! Here, let me…" Chuckling softly, the brunette relinquished the bags to her son's friend, rearranging her purse over her shoulder and casting another smile towards the tall boy as they walked on—he idly noticed, her smiles were just like Kurama's. Patient. Kind.

"So, Kuwabara-kun—you're a long way from home, ne? Looking for Suu-chan, I suppose?" He started, almost tripping but catching himself and laughing nervously—they were alike in more ways than one. She sure was perceptive!

"Er, yea—is he home? There was something I wanted to talk to him about…" As the pair retraced Kuwabara's steps he mentally cursed—damn! He'd missed the right street to turn down by two blocks! Grumbling to himself, he just caught the lady's answer, her voice turning a bit contemplative.

"I'm sorry to say, he isn't—Suu-chan went out about an hour ago. Told me he was going to visit the mountains, since they're only a few stops outside the city…" …Damn. Kurama practically never broke from his routine, and now… hell knew where he was! There were dozens of mountain stops at the edge of the city—Genkai's temple compound, as well as a few others.

"Oh…" She turned to him, a warm smile adopting itself onto her face as she unlocked the door and stepped inside, slipping off her shoes and stepping up into her house slippers. The carrot-top simply ducked inside and stood there, holding the bags as she did this.

"You're welcome to wait, if you'd like. He said he'd be back before dinner…" She carefully took the big brown bag from him and disappeared into the kitchen just on the other side of the rice-paper sliding door. The brunette was only a meter or so away as she set it on the counter.

"Um… No—thank you, Minamino-san—" He bowed clumsily, trying not to spill the contents of the plastic bags he yet held, for her. Dinner was still quite a few hours away… he'd call on Kurama tomorrow. He smiled awkwardly at her thanks for his carrying the bags, bowing again.

"I'll be sure to tell Suu-chan you stopped by. Would you like anything to take with you?" He was about to refuse, but as she pulled a few cookies out of a plastic tupperware container he felt his mouth begin to water. Minamino-san's cookies made anyone's taste buds ising/i with joy…

"… well—maybe just—one or two—" She chuckled, seeing the hungry look that was no doubt in his eyes and wrapped several in a napkin, then handing him the package with yet another honey-warm expression.

"Feel free to come by anytime, Kuwabara-kun. It's so nice to see Suu-chan's friends." It was perhaps a strange thing to say… but he chalked it up to Kurama being somewhat introverted (and lacking a few major things in common with his own classmates), so he just laughed, waving it off politely and bowing once more, backing out of the front door to show respect—waving a hand to stop the brunette as she began to step down into the genkan and see him to the door.

"Ah, yes—thank you, Minamino-san! No, no, I can see myself out—thank you! I will! If you'll excuse me, shitsureshimasu…"

Kuwabara closed the door in front of him, then took off at a pace, eager to get away from the house. Kurama's mother was nice… but she just made him nervous. She was nothing like his own mother, or sister—perhaps this was why he loved Yukina so much. Women like that were so thoughtful, caring… they needed to be protected. He was glad she had the kitsune to watch out for her—the plants at the door had rustled at sensing his ki, but let him safely inside. No doubt Kurama's doing, that. He munched on a few cookies as he made his way back to the train station… a big hand then coming to smack the middle of his forehead.

Of course! Was he an idiot?! He should just call Kurama on the communicator…

With a grumble he flipped out the pink circular thing, pressing the button to dial the fox.

He waited.

The device beeped, and he cocked a brow upwards at the message that appeared on the screen, blinking.

_Signal cannot be found. Please try again later._

—This had never happened, before. What the hell! Stupid piece of junk… Kuwabara grumbled, pocketing the device and storming off, biting violently into another cookie.

He'd be sure to get his hands on the fox, somehow, tomorrow! Hell, he'd skip his last class and stand outside the Meiou Academy Gate to wait if he had to!

: : :

Quiet.

Watch.

Breath.

Speed.

Crouch. Hide.

Go. Go.

Now.

Kill.

A flash of silver, and the neck of the rabbit was broken, held securely between sharp rows of teeth. They sank in silently, blood dripping from between them as the almost-white creature panted, slitted golden eyes darting about as his tails whipped around behind him in jittery excitement. What had been a mere run in the demon-laced forests surrounding Genkai's temple compound had mutated into a shift to his kitsune form, as well as a free-for-all amidst the small prey animals found within. Some were Makai-bred—the only way for them to successfully co-exist with the youkai that inhabited the area around them. And oh, he'd forgotten how like home Makai hare tasted like. In typical beastly fashion he began to devour the creature raw—he was in his original fox form, and naturally this meal should not cause any discomfort for his more human stomach once he reverted back. The taste of blood on his tongue… it woke something feral in him, something that seemed to have last taken place far too long ago to be anything more than a vague dream.

Although he did reign himself in, a bit—it wouldn't do to allow himself to completely slip. When this was all over he would be required to return home… upon glancing upward towards the dusk-lit sunset-wrought sky realization slowly filtered back to his consciousness—yes. He would have to leave, soon. A dull ache spread through his chest, at the thought.

His kitsune form was very nearly all instinct. It was his original form, and all reactions from it were as familiar as his name—the one form he could not seem to shield himself. Even so, there was not much to shield… common-variety foxes in Makai, as a rule, were not so intelligent. Yes, that had been himself once, unable to speak and sharing a den with his mother, father, and siblings.

Only through training and patience had he been able to shift to a humanoid form, and from there… from there his family shunned him. It hadn't been right—they'd seen him fearfully when he'd tried to approach them, scarcely looking older than a human toddler(the manifestation of his age converted to human years for such an appearance), excited at his progress but his black papa had yipped the family into the den, despite his common red mama's glance backward.

Heartbroken, he'd wandered away. They'd recognized his scent, of course… but… but was he too strange, like this? He'd thought it was so amazing, to be able to appear like one of the etched ink paintings of humans he'd seen by way of an 'antique art' display in one of the caravans that passed by a road. They didn't often go to the roads, being a 'proper' fox family and generally avoiding the other brands of youkai and their doings… but he'd snuck off, once, and caught a picture of what seemed to be a small human family. Painted by a human artist, no doubt, and it had somehow found its way into Makai—perhaps from a favor done to a human, and the human had repaid with the painting. He was struck by the picture—what might have been a papa, a mama, and a baby.

Then, he'd realized many youkai had hands. Fingers. Or, at least a form where those aspects existed. Wouldn't it be fun to try to appear like that? Wouldn't it be fun to be able to pick things up with fingers and thumbs instead of only teeth? Weren't hands and feet more convenient than paws? The young silver kitsune stared sadly at his pale palms, flexing the chubby fingers he had so meticulously formed from the picture in his mind. It had taken so long for him to get this far… he was still mostly furry, with a silvery layer covering all of his crafted skin, but at least it wasn't as thick as when he was in full kitsune form.

And no, of course he didn't have any clothes… and he still had his ears and tail, and for some reason a short crop of grey-white hair that rested just a little bit up off of the back of his neck. It had the same smooth, silky feel of fur when he nosed to his siblings' or parents' coats—and the only places where he didn't have fur somewhere, even now, were on the insides of his hands. The young fox was entranced by the feelings he got from those fingertips—it was all too amazing that he'd been without such a sensation for too long. He liked this form. He could even go into town like this—

Here his melancholy returned with the sudden thought. No, no… papa and mama wouldn't want him to go into town. They would already be mad at him for learning how to transform…

Kurama shook the old memories off. He frowned, as best he could in his current kitsune form, and quietly made the shift back to his redheaded self. Out of a sense of nostalgia, he silently regarded one of his human palms, glancing down to it after opening his eyes once the transformation was complete—it was far more perfectly formed than those first few stumbling attempts he'd made as a pup, mimicking the same structure he'd now simply been born with, in this life. A sigh snaked out to the air as he pocketed the hand, making his way quietly back through the dense forest towards the bus stop that would take him back to the central part of the city.

…well. At least that minor stint had raised him up, a bit. Perhaps now it was easier to go back, now. Perhaps, as well, his long experience as a youko was at last sweeping over him to help him go on. Hiei had not returned for… was it six months, already? Seven, since the end of the Tournament, at least, and so… Another exhale curled around the night air, softly.

Perhaps, then, half a year was enough time for him to move on. Even as it saddened him to admit it… even as it still hurt, somewhere, to contemplate it… if Hiei had wanted to return, he would have, by now. If Hiei did truly not need him… then these last few months proved it, didn't it? So, perhaps he had been in denial… the end had just come, so suddenly. And yet…

He knew they were still tied together. It was likely best that the youkai had stayed away… if anything, the time proved the seriousness of the matter to the fox. That Hiei's 'boredom' was not merely a passing flash of wind… Mm. However, it would likely still ache for a while. It was all right, though. It would be best for him to respect his friend's wishes, no matter how painful the follow-through was. Even though in the past few months he'd felt strangely ungrounded. As though he were working his way through a mist—it seemed every corner he turned brought forth some small amount of dizziness. Well. When he was in his human form, at any rate. He'd not yet tried it with the humanoid guise of himself, but the kitsune aspect was certainly not affected…

It made him wonder.

The redhead was also becoming slightly suspicious of how quiet things were, lately…

: : :

Unseen, a dark figure silently followed the fox, feeling a perverse sense of satisfaction as he watched the seemingly-ever-elegant youko give way to animal instinct as he caught and killed that particularly unlucky Makai-Ningenkai-crossbreed of a rabbit.

How quaint.

Pleasantly, he shifted about in his tree, dark upon dark revealing only his glinting brown eyes in the obscurity of the branches. If the redhead had paid attention, he might have been noticed—but then, it was impossible. After all, this body's soul was long fused with his own—he was much more in control of his facilities than initially, of course—and as a result it was only really half-alive… being rid of its human soul and replaced with a demonic one, of course. He had intended to make the bond as quickly as he could, but as his talents had not quite transferred to this form he was putting it off, instead taking to observe the fox whenever he could.

Ah, Kurama.

A smile quirked the lips of the teen, fingers splaying out over his own chest as that fiery mop of hair at last disappeared between the trees, the youko's pensive spell apparently finished.

It was a credit to his own talents that he wasn't dead—something that he would revel in, greatly, when it at last came time to reveal his plans to the fox.

Oh, he was biding his time. He would be sure to wait the correct amount of time before he would be sure the binding seal would work. It was agonizing—he'd been watching Kurama close to three months, now… it had taken quite a bit of time to acclimate to his new body, as well as squash the last remaining traces of humanity from his host's mind. It was going well—the boy who had inhabited it before him had been an odd sort of punk… but at least his hair was growing well. It never did to look anything less than exquisite, and already he could tell his dark charm was returning, bit by bit. It was mildly annoying not to have access to his youki, however, and this he chalked up to the human form not being able to handle the substance. Rather irritating, indeed.

Which was why—when he at last affixed that binding, sealing ward into the redhead's lovely pale skin—he would begin to recover his abilities at a faster rate. It would prove a most convenient spiritual link that would have dire consequences should the fox try to kill him. He smirked. Not that he minded that course of action, but it would be far nicer to remain around the kitsune in this plane. No one knew, after all, that he was still alive, and he intended to keep it that way as long as he could. If they both died if the redhead tried to kill him, it would be only trouble with Reikai from then on. Although the concept of having the half-human boy die with him was so delicious he nearly wished he'd made it happen, the first time.

"That was my mistake, dear kitsune." He murmured to no one, leaning back against the trunk of the tree he was settled upon. A thoughtless sigh dusted over thin lips, fingers caressing the naked tiers in absent thought even as he relished the yet-still-foreign sensation of not wearing a mask. This human body, while all-too-inconvenient for the lack of youki he could summon, did have its perquisites—not having to wear a filtering mask being one of them. That dark mouth curled upwards at the corners in a low smirk, digits shifting to tap over his cheek.

"…but I shall not make such a glaring mistake, ever again."

~*~To Be Continued~*~


	3. Past

Disclaimer: I don't own Yuu Yuu Hakusho, or any of its characters. Those belong to Yoshihiro Togashi-sama, who made a lot more out of them than I ever could have. ^^;; I just do fanfiction for fun, and earn no monetary rewards for writing it. Reviews are, of course, worth as much as silver.

Title: Second Try

Chapter Three: Past

Word Count: 6,805

Anime: Yuu Yuu Hakusho

Pairing: HieixKurama, ?xKurama

Warning: Shounen ai, violence, language

Author: Kita Kitsune

Date: Sunday(sun-day!), August 2, 2009

Miscellaneous Notes: Wow! Fast chapter, right? Although I probably won't post this for a little while. ;3 Gotta love those reviews~! Please don't forget them~~ And by the way, this chapter takes place entirely in the past. Hope you guys don't get too confused and lost! :3

REVIEW, PEOPLE(who don't review), DAMN YOU, REVIEW! I don't get paid for this(despite how much I love it, but still it's good to feel appreciated), so I can at least get feedback. D: Grr. Show me it's worth my time to sit down and settle and write fanfiction instead of occupying my time with other hobbies(and oh trust me, I've got a bunch of them)!

(Of course, mhmartini and Ayako's reviews have been well-worn and much-loved, too. Thanks! ;3)

…in case anyone was wondering, this is why I don't answer reviews, much(anymore).

I tend to rant. x.x

And take up pointless space in the beginning of a chapter.

…….Ack.

: : : : : : :

~Four Months Earlier~

Step. Slash.

Parry.

Above.

Head open. Kill.

Side open. Kill.

All thoughts were trained on the motions his body followed through with.

Mindful training, at its most mindless best.

_He could still see the sunlight playing against the outline of that slender, vibrant figure reposed silently upon the bed. It was dawn. The breeze was chill against his back, as he was yet only in his sleeveless shirt, cloak dragging slightly on the floor. He dared not move. He dared not leave until the kitsune had so given him 'permission' to leave, by way of the conversation coming to its mutual termination._

Teeth grit, and he forced his mind from such thoughts.

Dart. Flit.

Side open. Crouch.

DrawKill.

_The unshed tears merely collected in the eyes, causing the bright irises to glimmer tragically against the sun that began to poke out from the horizon to greet his back. None fell. Kurama was far too experienced with holding his emotions in to the extent that Hiei was surprised the fox didn't contract ulcers and migraines from all the stress it must be to continue his unflinching mirage of cool, collected dignity._

A loud curse interrupted the silence only previously punctuated by the sounds of a blade neatly cutting air.

"Fuck!" In a bad temper, garnet eyes cast about hotly, looking for something to ruin. Settling upon the nearest available tree—one with a trunk easily a few meters in width—he was upon it in an instant, hacking away at the unfortunate wood with his fists, little care to the splinters embedding themselves in his knuckles as he began to break the bark's protective surface and thus started to rend the fragile growth beneath. He vented his frustration—not for all the reasons one might think, but for the sheer_ frustration_ of the sensation that buckled through him like hot electrical wire.

Stupid fox.

He did not care. He'd nearly seen tears. No. Kurama was smothering him. He couldn't breathe. The damn fox was too clingy. Too desperate for company. Too content with dull routine. Unlike himself, Kurama was Weak. Becoming Weaker by the day. Weakness had no place in his universe. How he'd put up with the stifling affection for so long was beyond him. Likely that 'love' emotion the kitsune spoke of too often for his tastes—perhaps he had felt it, before, as he had with so very many others. And, as with them, it had faded when they had stopped 'growing' in the relationship. When everything was dull and familiar. Dolefully predictable.

Even the former youko had lost his edge, it seemed. The sharp wit was hidden by layers of covering humanity… in the end, he'd seen it. The fox had no identity. There was no sense of 'self'. Only a mindless puppet that reacted to every situation differently, every person differently. Depending on how he was to manipulate them. No, perhaps it was not intentional. But the kitsune was so struggling to reconcile the two extreme facets of his personality that it left him blank. How the hell had Kurama survived as long as he had?! Why would he even pursue relationships if he knew nothing of who he was! Yes, yes, the kitsune was the King of Thieves, the Legendary Youko, adept at both botanical and psychological manipulation, as arrogant as the sky was dark during a solar eclipse at midday, stupidly vain, horrendously used to getting his way… but he was no one. In that ever-clever youko's heart of hearts, he did not understand himself. Kurama did not understand his emotions, was jarred by the powerful after-effects of them, and sought to control them like everything else in his life.

A cool, calm, collected face even as his lover left him?! The hell! The kitsune hadn't even tried to stop him! What was that about?! The youkai couldn't understand not fighting to keep someone. It didn't bother his own sense of self-worth—that was developed enough on its own, even as being a victor in the Dark Tournament had bolstered it a bit more sufficiently—but it further ingrained in him the possibility that the tricky fox had only been playing with him. Not that Kurama would… but the Youko, for all his talent and power, was an unknown entity he did _not_ perhaps wish to become any further acquainted with. Those stronger than he were not often welcome company—and while he saw himself to be on just about equal footing with the redhead, the cunning silver fox was too unpredictable for his tastes. Yuusuke was another beast entirely, and Kuwabara—even as he'd surprised everyone in his battle against Toguro Ani in the final round of the Dark Tournament, three months ago—, while he'd earned a bit more respect, was still too low in his opinion to count.

A calm face. Utter detachment. As though Kurama were watching Hiei leave from elsewhere, a place other than his own body. A thoughtless need to be close, signified by how the kitsune had quietly moved to touch his cheek—it wasn't as though he had been affirming the situation was real. No. The kitsune had _needed_ the contact. For precisely what reason, the Jaganshi couldn't determine, but it likely had something to do with the fox's Weakness.

Humanity had gifted the fox with a powerful new weapon to appropriate into his arsenal, indeed.

Human emotion.

Irrepressible, inconsistent, irrational and idiotic.

All more for the reason that Kurama did all of these things, when it came to his own emotions. He empathized with anyone, sympathized with those in need(or at the very least appeared to), and attempted to smile his way out of nearly any situation. He could neatly describe your own emotions and reactions to you almost clinically, if he so wished(not that the fox made a habit out of it—politeness had been too engrained into his being by that damned human mother of his), and give excellent advice on what would be the best course of action to take to remedy any emotional pitfalls you may be having in a relationship. His kind tone, patience and self-control won over everyone, in the end—and Hiei had to admit he'd fallen for that façade, at first.

However, in his soul… in his soul, the kitsune was utterly barren. Centuries upon centuries of life had worn him down, and perhaps the only reason he was so accommodating so much of the time, now, was because his human life was so short, but instead of living it to the fullest extent as someone else might have, he was stricken by the thought of those closest to him dying in the blink of an eye.

There was no doubt Kurama was the oldest of them all. Where Koenma had seen decades of his current job, the kitsune had seen centuries. He had seen centuries of death in Makai, as well. Odds were that the youko hadn't cared as much, back then—demonic emotions were very different. Wild, yes. Passionate, yes. But the vast populous did not hold themselves to such strict standards of control as the youko did, even back before he'd been reincarnated—although he most certainly had a better sense of self, then. Emotion was not the romantic vision the humans had. Lust. Greed. Gluttony. Sloth. Wrath. Envy. Pride. All those acts commonly condemned by human religions—religion, ha! Humans had religion. Demons had philosophy, but in its cheapest sense, usually.

His own philosophy was simple: Be Strong. Keep training to remain Strong, for then you will one day be the Strongest.

Or, at least, that was the philosophy he presented to the world. No need for everyone to know just how greatly he treasured his sister's existence, or that part of the reason he trained so much was to protect her, should she need it from him, ever again. The Tarukane affair had instilled in him a nervous awareness he didn't realize he could possess, and while it was easily converted into a more useful emotion—often anger—the fact remained that no one should hear it spoken aloud. It was safer for her, that way. He pointedly ignored the similarity this brought between him and the fox—where the kitsune enshrouded his mother in lies and subtle, protective plants, Hiei remained quiet and allowed Yukina to live as she deemed best. The difference was that Kurama took an active, almost smothering role in defending his mother, while the Jaganshi silently kept in the shadows, ready to leap out at a moment's sign of danger, but otherwise continuing to live his own life and let his sister live hers. Free.

But Kurama's philosophy? He'd managed to bleed something from the cryptic fox, and it wasn't especially reassuring…

Jade depths had grown distant, a pencil idly tapping against his lips as the kitsune's gaze wandered to the darkened night sky just to his left, as the hankoorime'd been settled on the right corner of the windowsill, per the usual arrangement(that was, the fox doing his schoolwork as Hiei quietly waited)—but this night he'd broken the companionable silence with a question.

"…Kurama."

"—hmm?"

"What is living, to you."

First, emerald had flicked his way—before then the redhead seemed to find the firm inquiry in Hiei's otherwise unreadable stare, and his own trailed off, tone growing mildly absent.

"…'what is living', you ask? Hm, well…" Here a smile, head tipping lightly towards the Jaganshi as eyes slid shut to crescent moons, and the hankoorime's expression darkened a notch. Whenever Kurama smiled so easily, an inadvertent lie would doubtlessly be soon to follow. He questioned whether the redhead noticed that mannerism of his, or simply remained sadly oblivious.

"Living is different things to different people. To a child, living may simply be seeing their friends and family every day. To a teenager, living may be experiencing the moment and taking risks that seem worthwhile, at the time. To a young adult—"

"Shut the fuck up." He was startled, at that, pausing obediently but casting a curious glance my way.

"…is there a problem with my answer? I'd have thought—"

"I _said, _shut_ up_, you stupid fox." Teeth grit behind my carefully impassive face, although I was sure my gaze was scorching, jaw clenched ever so slightly in frustration. The same types of answers, again and again. The last thing I wanted to hear was more textbook answers, more generalized answers from the being before me. "I asked what is living, to _you_. I don't give a rat's ass about what other people might think 'living' to be. Kurama. What keeps you going, every day."

He paused, blinking at me as though he'd never seen me, before. Then the faintest of curves curled up the corner of his mouth in a lightly crooked smile. The expression sharpened my senses. Perhaps I would get a real answer—yes, perhaps finally, I thought, as he turned his sight from mine once more(yet another familiar idiosyncrasy), gaze hazing briefly before falling half-shut, still with that warm half-smile quirking up his lips… as though he half-regretted the answer.

"Then, I suppose… as foolish as it may sound, Hiei—'living', to me, is… being with those you love." He cast me a glance, then, expression beaming slightly although I couldn't help but wonder at the level of sincerity behind it—or if he was just being subtly ironic. But he continued, and I noticed his eyes slid from that brief contact with mine, once more. "…it is ensuring that those you love are happy and content. That you are living up to their dreams and expectations of you." Something ugly was starting to shadow his response, in my opinion, although nothing in his manner or tone changed. I merely felt a growing sense of disquiet in my gut, traveling slowly upwards as he continued to speak.

It was the first time I would find myself doubting if I would ever truly know who he was, if he so fully gave himself over to the happiness of his mother… and, with a horrifying flash of insight…

For those he 'loved'… that included all of the team, as well. He presented who was convenient for them to see. Who they wanted to see. Who they needed. The team needed a calm, analytical and intelligent fighter. He could be all those things, and so he was. To us. Altering his self around us so we would never see beyond it. Compartmentalizing his personality.

I suppose I was lucky to realize I had just now scratched the surface of who it was I was 'in love' with, at the time. Which meant—that all of the months previous, all the secrets that had passed between us… I might as well have been trying to get to know a stranger. He had locked himself away so adeptly, that even with me, he was acting. Showing nothing of his true self, but—there was a distinct possibility it was subconscious, at least—manipulating. Giving me what I wanted so I could be happy, and reflexively he would be content with making that happen.

But he did slip. Not verbally. But physically. I don't even think he would have been aware he'd done it, if I hadn't pointed it out to him. The constant touching. Affection. Far beyond my own needs. But he seemed not to want to take from me, and the first time I mentioned this he took it calmly—as always—but the next time I noticed he quietly refrained from growing physically close to me, at all. The only sign of the effort was that he smiled perhaps a little bit less, and that there was a sad, distant flicker in his gaze that hadn't been there, before. It unsettled me.

I suppose I was lucky to realize it, then.

That I could never love the real Kurama.

Simply because he didn't exist.

And if he did not exist, there would be nothing to stop him from giving up his life.

As with his human mother and the Mirror of Darkness.

As with every battle he had fought in the Ankoku Buujutsukai.

Every injury. Every scratch. It meant nothing to him.

Pain was nothing to him.

Because likely since the day he first became aware, he had shut off his inner self and gotten used to the pain of it, so as to be able to present an image people desired.

I suppose it was lucky I realized it.

Although he would never understand.

I could never love him, with him living that way.

It would only be one-sided.

And one day… he would go off.

The years of strict control would break him, if they hadn't already.

The Youko—that dangerous, unethical, selfish, homicidal individual—would rise to the surface once more, with a terrifying vengeance for being suppressed for so long.

And when I think of that haunted look in his eyes—the only hint of emotion in his face as I told him it was over, that we were done, that I was 'bored'—I know it was just because I couldn't handle the pressure.

I couldn't handle the pressure to hold him together, or the blame I would receive if he broke under my watch.

It was selfish of me, perhaps.

…But, then.

I'm not Kurama, am I?

I don't sacrifice my independence for someone.

The most important person in my life is myself.

Be Strong.

…Someday I _will_ be the Strongest.

: : :

~Three Months Earlier~

Dark, glittering stars in the dead of night.

The eerie glow of the city around them.

Two small figures, atop the roof of an apartment building.

One shadowed, hidden off to the side, seeming nervous.

The other held his arms aloft, murmuring a quick, repetitive set of chants under his breath. The upwardly-spiked, closely-cropped black hair easily provided a view of the many various metallic earrings decorated around the shell of an audit. His right hand was wrapped around a thin metal pole that looked like a Satanist mockery of a Buddhist monk's wooden staff. Thinly-welded circles of black steel jingled against one another as he waved it about, his breath controlled, keeping the chants steady.

Innocent eyes widened behind him, the figure apparently unnoticed as the small creature huddled in the shadows, too terrified to step forward, due to the suddenly heavy presence in the air. To distract herself, telling herself that demons weren't real and they were in no real danger, she fixed her eyes on her brother, ignoring the tears beginning to sting the corners. He'd been late, coming home—she'd feared he'd gone up to the roof to do another of his 'Summonings', as they called them. Nothing ever came of them, but they were certainly creepy enough to begin to worry her…

That is, 'worry' her until an eerily reddish glow began to coalesce from the air above the fire he'd made, and then she was just terrified as his lips curled upward in glee, gazing up at the lazily-swirling mist-like entity that descended towards him as though a languid hurricane from the sky.

When he tipped his face up, the reddish mist only a meter from his upturned expression of utter rapture, she found herself running across the blacktop towards him, the fear unfreezing her legs as she cried out, hot, sticky streams of tears running down her face as she outstretched her arms towards one of his, intent on grabbing him, bringing him back before that… that _thing_ could touch him and she'd lose the only family that still—

She'd never thought he'd take it this far.

His new friends… those occult weirdos… they'd made him lose his job, and now—

"'niisan! Yame—!!" A sickening squelch wet the air, and she coughed in the midst of her entreating plea for him to stop, pretty drops of red spilling onto paling lips as she stared blankly ahead, horrified but not quite comprehending at finding one end of the staff jingling merrily just above the place where her brother's hand now grasped it—the closer end impaled through her chest, through one of her own lungs, no doubt, and clearly having hit her heart, because blood was quickly emptying out of her body as she fell to her knees, doubling over and hacking up more of the life-giving fluid, widened and pathetic-looking eyes straining as she writhed in agony, trying to glance up, to catch a glimpse of the man—but then the pole twisted in her chest and she wheezed for breath, back arching into an agonized bow and she gasped in pain as it was pushed further in… and only then, through the haze of pain, was she aware of a supernaturally smooth grin curling up the corners of what once had been her dear brother's face, and doe-brown eyes struggled to stay open as that abomination of a visage drew nearer, close enough that most of the pole protruded out her back, another weak jingle of the circled hoops of black against silver steel tinkling out as it at last hit the front of her chest, the fabric of her shirt already drenched and sopping.

Her vision was fogging, but she caught a floating-red-sort-of-blur where eyes might have been and sickeningly sweet words whispered into her ear, ghostly chilled skin scraping the heat there, the utterance almost deafened with the pounding of her frantic pulse and what felt like cotton, stuffed in her ears…

"My, my… what an exquisite gift offered by my host. It is a shame to leave you here for them to find, in such a state… but currently, I cannot afford to be caught. Not when given such a breathtakingly rare chance." It was her 'niisan's voice and yet it wasn't—his usually gruff way of speaking was now eloquently smooth, and the usually warm tone now almost menacingly soft—although it seemed like the sentence cost the creature a good bit of energy, as his next comment was almost panted, as though he was beginning to breathe with more labor.

The last words she ever knew, alive, before that flicker of night departed without a trace, were—

"Do—give my regards… to Reikai."

~An Hour Later~

"…are you ready?" The solemn lady in a black kimono stood just across from her, on the other side of the mangled body that had once been hers. Her own small, now-pale hands were clasped in front of her, tightly holding onto each other as she looked down at the bloodied form, eyes shadowed by soft ebony. Perhaps she was crying—but when she raised her head, the shinigami could see there were no tears. Nonetheless, she stood patiently there, awaiting the recently deceased little girl's decision to go.

What surprised her was how soft and firm that little girl's voice was, as she only inquired as to one small question.

"…Shinigami-san. Please. My brother might have died here, tonight… is he—" Petite eyebrows raised, but the solemn woman bowed slightly, turning to leaf through her booklet. A slight crease in her forehead revealed the information she came across.

"…I am sorry, Kanisawa-san. But your brother is not yet scheduled to die." She kept quiet that the girl's fate had drastically changed, only a few hours ago, that she would 'die due to an occult-summoning accident'. She took out her oar, regally seating herself upon it and floated around to the girl, extending a hand. Empathizing with small children was normally Botan's job—her cheery demeanor tended to ease them into the realization that they were dead—but with the Ankoku Buujutsukai still wrapping up, her co-worker, Jorge Saotome the blue oni, and Koenma-sama were yet busied with—celebrating with, no doubt—the surviving championship team… which was Koenma-sama's Reikai Tantei and the well-known psychic Genkai, amazingly enough.

A soft, too-thin pale hand in hers jarred her out of her thoughts and the sedate dark-haired ferry woman smiled as best she could—still coming off as rather reserved and solemn—pulling the girl onto her lap and locking her into a safe position with both of her arms, advising the preteen to hold onto the space of the oar just beneath the ferrier's own hands, to keep from falling off. The girl nodded, following the instructions in a quietly obedient fashion, and the rest of the trip to Reikai would be uneventful.

Mentally, the older female checked off the list in her head, although careful to keep her arms secure around her new charge until they made it safely over the River Styx and into the Gate of Judgment.

Kanisawa Meirin. Age eleven. Resident of Tokyo.

That, however sad it may be, was not cause for worry. This was a simple open-and-shut case.

: : :

~One Month Later~

"Please, Ayame-san!" The little girl was tugging at her kimono sleeve rather endearingly, large brown eyes of a preteen who would never reach puberty begging her as much as her voice was. "Please! Something happened to 'niisan, back when I died… didn't I tell you?? Didn't I tell you?! He was acting weird! Please, can't you—"

"Kanisawa-san, please do calm down." Her voice was somber, quiet, but softly focused dark eyes conveyed enough sadness that the girl did as she was told, clasping her arms in front of her and looking away. She was trying to adjust, really she was—the nice ferry lady, Ayame-san, had told her all would be well, now that she was on this side of the barrier between Reikai and Ningenkai. No one could hurt her, anymore, as she was a ghost, so said Ayame—and she had been here for who knew how long. Time was irrelevant, anyway. She wasn't getting any older, wouldn't grow up, and couldn't peacefully move on to her final place of rest. It was impossible! Despite the fact that that nice Botan-san with the pretty blue hair and bouncy, happy face had walked in a day after she came in, glanced at her file once and cheerfully told Meirin she'd be reunited with her parents as soon as she moved on. It'd been too soon, still, and they wouldn't enter the cycle of reincarnation for another fifty years or so. So, however long fifty Ningenkai years were in Reikai, she'd be able to see her mom, again, and dad…

She barely had any memories of them as it was. 'niisan had basically raised her as far back as she could remember, as they were jostled from foster home to foster home… and now there was something seriously wrong with him, she knew. Of course, ever the loyal little sister, she hadn't told the Reikai officials all that had happened—she didn't want to cast suspicion on her brother, even if the Reikai wasn't the Ningenkai police—…a-and after all, it hadn't _really_ been Takashi that'd killed her. It had been someone, or something—she was betting on the latter—else that had stabbed her through and ended her life. She'd had a lot of time to think about it for however long she'd been here—she couldn't be sure, maybe it was two weeks? Time was so strange, here.

So, she had resorted to begging and begging Ayame-san to help her put in an appeal to find her brother's soul—just to be sure he was all right. She was quickly beginning to see that she couldn't rest without knowing what had happened, in its entirety… maybe that was enough? Maybe she could even get to meet with Koenma-sama, himself, and meekly tell him what had happened… maybe even Botan-san would be there? Ayame-san she clung to like a wet leaf(perhaps because she'd been the one to guide her to Reikai), but then Ayame-san did remind her of her brother—quiet, reserved, slightly protective with dark eyes and hair neatly pressed into whatever style she favored.

But… 'niisan was a bit hard to think of, right now.

Especially since that last image of him was burned into her memory, forever…

She shuddered. Botan-san would make her feel better. In truth, the blue-haired ferry girl reminded her of her own friends, who she'd left behind… she felt tears well up, knowing they would get to live long, happy lives and so she wouldn't get to see them again until they died—if she hadn't reincarnated by then. She almost secretly hoped she would have… it would hurt less to forget everything and start over as a completely different person than see how happy they had become over a beautiful lifetime with husbands, and children, and grandchildren…

Suddenly she wanted Botan-san. She sniffled, rubbing at her eyes and a soft hand squeezed her shoulder, voice gentle. Ayame-san almost seemed able to read her mind.

"There, there, child. I'll fetch Botan." And before she could even mount a proper protest, the dark-haired woman had exited the room.

: : :

"Botan." Caught with half a tsukume chicken kabob ball in her mouth, the blue-haired girl turned from her seated place at the gossipy lunch table—with that odd, pink-haired coworker of hers that absolutely _loved _to gather the souls of young bishounen looking a bit put-out as one of her stories got cut short at Ayame's interruption.

"Mou, Ayame! I'd just gotten to the good part—" The more serious woman cast a sedate glance towards her comrade. Sakura had been serving with Reikai longer than Botan, but not nearly so long as Ayame. She found joy in her work when she could, unlike Botan who wasn't quite burned-out, yet, with the job. The three of them were quite the combination—herself better for consoling the elderly who had passed, Sakura doing a good job of the middle-aged(even as she preferred the bishounen) and Botan easily relating to the younger generations. It would likely shift after a few centuries, when Reikai saw fit to admit a fourth ferry girl to their ranks—their job was a recent addition, only a little over a millennium old—but for now it worked. The taller woman graciously motioned back to the room she had just exited from.

"Kanisawa-san. I believe she would benefit from your presence." Her face held a lingering sadness, as it always did, but Botan immediately got the urgency and stood—

"Meirin-chan?!" –rushing off with a parting wave to her pink-haired friend as she stepped inside.

The little eleven-year-old was curled up on her cot, head buried in her arms. The youngest ferry girl sighed, stepping close with as bright a smile she could muster and sitting beside her, wrapping an arm around the trembling shoulders.

"…Meirin-chan? Is everything all right?" Bleary, tear-fogged brown eyes bore up on her and Botan smiled a little more cheerfully, happiness infusing her tone. "I know it's hard, but when you cross over you'll feel much better and get to see your parents, and—"

"Botan-san. Please don't tell anyone—" Instantly the blue-haired shinigami stopped. Even in her few years as a ferry girl, she'd learned it was usually good to listen to troubled spirits. It helped ease their pain. And so she merely offered a solemn nod, crossing her heart over her kimono's chest with a confiding smile aimed towards the other girl as she silently urged her to continue.

Which Meirin did, after a long, quiet pause.

"…when I… died—" Botan fought the urge to wince, here. She remembered reading that report—all gruesome details intact. "…it… wasn't an accident." The girl's throat had gone tight, here, and shimmering roan again locked on the ferry girl's bright fuschia eyes. "But it wasn't 'niisan! It wasn't!" Tears spilled forth once more, and the preteen buried her face in the folds of her friend's pink kimono—"Something was wrong with him, Botan-san! Something happened to him! He was calling something weird, and—and—the next thing I knew it was glaring at me with red eyes and then it hurt and then I was dead!" She started to sob, here, clutching onto the soft cotton fabric. "Botan-san! Botan-san! I can't rest if 'niisan's soul is in trouble… ne?! Can't I… isn't there something I can—"

Throughout all this, Botan had remained quiet, soothingly rubbing the little girl's back and casting a hesitant, almost apologetic gaze down towards her. It… wasn't much of a hope, considering how many papers Koenma-sama stamped, each day… but it was worth a try.

So her voice, although slightly thickened with unshed tears, sought to reassure the crying girl in her arms as best it could.

"Well… Meirin-san—we can always appeal your case, and send in a form to Koenma-sama…"

: : :

Eyes closed, he focused. Breathe in, then out. Steady, steady.

The ramshackle hole-in-the-wall that passed as a cheap apartment on the outskirts of Tokyo would be all that greeted his sight if he even opened his eyes, anyway. My, but this was a far cry from his own usual taste of elegance… but then, who was he to complain? He was alive, after all. To this thought the dark-haired male smirked, dark brown sliding open beneath strands of ebony. He irately ran a hand through the too-short-for-his-liking ear-length locks. Humans and their styles these days were a mystery. Did all fail to comprehend that lengthy hair on a man was eternally attractive? Really, now…

At least Kurama defied those conventions.

At the thought of his beautiful fox a broad smirk danced over his face, and a breathy sigh of contentment reached the air as his gaze fluttered shut, revealing one of the ever-fetching images of the redhead that swirled over his mind's eye when he allowed such a distraction.

His seals were almost complete. He had a series of four—one for each limb, that he believed he could affix a seal to while keeping its effect solid—but it cost a great deal of his own much-depleted spirit to write them. With his youki dangling down near imperceptible levels, he would easily be picked off by any nearby demon—including Kurama, were he to approach the fox too brashly—so the best method for now was concealment. He was thankful all human bodies possessed at least a small amount of reiki—a boon he made excellent use of as soon as possible.

Half of it had gone to the first seal. The intent was to affix an invisible ward—none too easy to fabricate without the use of his infamous 'creating' youki, mind you, which meant focusing unfamiliar reiki and using a plain brush and paper—that would render his own ki undetectable to the redhead. Once the kitsune would not be aware of this body's energy signature(tailoring the seal to both the reiki this human form exuded as well as the intricate design of his own, currently-inaccessible, youki), he would be free to find ways to increase it as best he could.

The other half would be for the second seal. It would provide a unique bond that would allow him to sap the kitsune's energy—although in its early stages it would not prevent the fox from killing him too easily, and so even until this point he had to remain in control, and keep his disguise up—until his new human body recognized his demonic spirit within, and began to at last produce youki for him to use to create the third, more powerful seal.

This third seal, once he had enough youki, would be to bind Kurama's life to his. This was the most critical in his plan—for, once he revealed himself to the object of his affections, he doubted his revival would bring forth an initially positive reaction. Best to be safe. There would be no room for mistakes, this time.

The fourth seal, after these first three conditions had been met—rendering his spirit invisible to the fox in the initial stages as to avoid detection and probable elimination, stealing the fox's energy to bolster his recovery, and ensuring Kurama could not kill him without dying, himself—would be to enable this body to accept his own natural youki. It was linked to his demonic soul as was every attribute of his personality. He wasn't quite whole without the full command of it as he was used to—even as he basked in the freedom of not being required to wear a mask. There were positives and negatives to both scenarios… he missed the mystery and security—dare he admit it—the mask gave him while in the same breath drew pleasure from the novelty of being without it.

It was luck that had drawn his spirit unwaveringly from its floating place above Kubikukuri Island to Tokyo, and yet more luck that had so easily fused his soul to a receptive body. Granted, he was stuck to this form, but he found he didn't mind, so much… Toguro was dead, after all, and he was relishing in the sorely-missed freedom that simple truth granted him. Forty years of servitude weighed heavily on him, and to be relieved of it so suddenly was an amazing thing. As an added plus, he found that since he'd entered this body, its reiki rejuvenated itself after only a few days, if he used it to its full extent(then again, he'd never been too aware of how quickly humans recovered reiki on their own, so…). He had been sure to quickly craft the first seal as soon as he had properly adjusted to this new form—now the only missing piece was finding Kurama.

Without his youki, and in a city full of humans, that would be no easy task, however…

"TAKASHI-KUN!" He was startled quite rudely out of his musings, and he sat up, quickly—too quickly, apparently, for his vision protested, lurched and he was struck with one of the most annoying human maladies he was hastily beginning to loathe—a headache. The dark-haired teen hissed, brushing strands of fine black from his eyes and moving to prop himself up on the dirtied mattress that passed as a 'bed'—(he couldn't think of why anyone would come here, but he'd found a key in his host's pocket and simply tried every door in the building until one opened… but if the boy had had relatives besides that 'unfortunate' girl who'd startled him when he'd first appeared… perhaps taking this form would be more problematic than previously thought. Not that he had much of a choice… )

Before he got too far, however, there was a loud bang as the metal door buckled and all-too-soon he found himself on the receiving end of a vile, unwanted embrace from an all-too-fat plump log of a woman. She was wailing. He nearly twitched, but held himself in from displaying such an inelegant gesture.

"Oh, Takashi-kun, Takashi-kun! We were so worried when we heard about Meirin-chan on the news!" …Ugh. He was pressed between her ample bosoms, and the human female wore far too much perfume for her own good. Likely seeking to cover up the overwhelming odor of sweat practically dripping off of her… He tried to speak, politely, but she cut him off as though she'd not even heard his attempt.

"Takashi-kun!" He was vaguely aware of her head tossing this way and that, as though she were looking around the room. "This will simply not do! You are a Kanisawa! No wonder poor Meirin was murdered! In this neighborhood, it's no surprise! No! You are coming to live with us! You're old enough to be out of high school, and you're wasting your life here! Well, no more! We shan't risk losing another Kanisawa to this ruffian neighborhood with all its trash!" She sniffed arrogantly, and before he could somewhat wistfully contemplate doing away with her with one of his dear bombs, they were out the door and down the stairs, and he was pushed into the waiting limo without so much as an edge-wise comment, on his part.

He had just met Kanisawa Kumi, sister to his host body's own mother, and thus his biological aunt.

In ordinary circumstances, he would have killed a fool like her without a second thought or glance.

However… unable to use his youki, limited to only small bursts of a teenage human's reiki (that, sadly, looked to hold no inklings towards anything yet remotely linked to his old Quest Class level of power), and bound by the need for concealment of his true identity from both Reikai and the Ningenkai law enforcement agents(it simply complicated too many things to be wanted for murder when he was trying to lay low—and if the Ningenkai became involved, Reikai may look into it if they sensed something odd about the situation—yes, they were nearly all incompetent up there at the Gate of Judgment, but there was no sense in taking needless risks at this point in the game)… it all prevented him from merely ripping the woman's head off where she sat and strolling briskly away.

Kanisawa Kumi, her daughter, and their rich business tycoon of a husband and father figure were about to make his life more of a hell than Koenma could ever have hoped to achieve, now that his soul was bonded to their 'dear Takashi's body, quite formidably.

Perhaps it was because he had the faint impression of Toguro looking down on him from Reikai—from whatever personal hell he had designated for himself—and still smiling that same damned, all-powerful, all-knowing smirk he'd when he and his older brother had defeated the crow.

Perhaps it was because this was the first time in his life(experience, not counting the fact he had quite recently taken over a human teen's body and lifespan) where he could not kill the source of his problems in order to best(as in, quickly and efficiently) resolve them.

Whatever-it-was, had he known the horrors and indignities he was about to suffer at the hands of the Kanisawa family triad, he may have perhaps reconsidered if the objective of finally winning Kurama was worth it all.

. . . . . . .

…oh, but how foolish of him it would be to even entertain the notion.

This was _Kurama_.

His scathingly beautiful, exceedingly graceful, breathtakingly tempting object of an unhealthy, fixated, possibly insatiable-to-the-point-of-insane obsession—whose clever actions had quite amazingly killed him in the ring, that first time they'd actually fought, one month ago in the finals of the Dark Tournament.

Of course any sort of hell he would be put through would be worth it, when compared to the reward of owning his pretty fox.

~*~To Be Continued~*~


	4. Gift

Disclaimer: I don't own Yuu Yuu Hakusho, or any of its characters. Those belong to Yoshihiro Togashi-sama, who made a lot more out of them than I ever could have. ^^;; I just do fanfiction for fun, and earn no monetary rewards for writing it. Reviews are, of course, worth as much as silver.

Title: Second Try  
Chapter Four: Gift  
Word Count: 6,396  
Anime: Yuu Yuu Hakusho  
Pairing: HieixKurama, ?xKurama  
Warning: Shounen ai, language  
Author: Kita Kitsune  
Date: Tuesday(fire-day!), August 11, 2009  
Miscellaneous Notes: All righty! My first attempt at writing a certain crow. x.x;; Gack. Hope it's not too horrible. I'm not used to 'capturing' him, but I'm trying~! Posts after this one might be a bit more sporadic. Heading back to school in a little over a week. x///x;;!

Reviews show me it's worth it to post, so they affect how fast I update!

Nine reviews~! Thanks to DragonRose888(Norbert), various crimes, val, adalleria, Moon-Princess-Usagi, Vixen-of-Ice and adah! for the ones on this site. :3

: : : : : : :

~Six Months Later (a.k.a. the Next Day in Present Time)~

Moodily, the brunet stared out the window beside him, chin sulkily reclined against a propped fist, watching the scenery flick by. Ugh. So boring.

Who knew that for so much money, there was so little to do on one of these 'bullet trains'? Although Koenma was paying for it, this time, so it perhaps wasn't all bad…

He smirked to himself. Heh.

Idly, he found his thoughts returning to absent worry about the fox… eh. Kuwabara'd take care of it. He always did. Lifting a shoulder in an idle shrug, the detective merely returned to staring out the window, watching as morning began to haze into afternoon, musings far away as he contemplated why Hiei—of all people—would run off for half a year without telling even his supposed 'best friend', Kurama, where he was going…

Perhaps they had had a fight, then. And youkai weren't like humans… sure, he and Kuwabara fought all the time, but they meant nothing by it. Kurama and Hiei, though… they didn't fight much. In fact, one could easily say that the redheaded kitsune was one of the few people the Jaganshi tolerated on a daily, almost-pleasant basis.

He'd have to figure out what was going on in the demon's skull. Koenma was pissed enough about it to bitch to Yuusuke, so it was obvious the godling was worried about something. Hell knew what it was, though…

…Damn shinkansen. It would've probably been faster if he'd just run there…

: : :

Whispered words and hands over mouths echoed around him, obvious in their subtlety. He ignored them, too used to it by now—it was his reputation, after all—remaining reclined against the school wall at his back, letting the other students pass by. He stood out enough, both his height and uniform color causing the others to skirt around quickly, giving him a wide berth.

Dark eyes fell on a familiar figure, and the redhead paused, blinking in muted surprise for a moment before offering a smile his way, turning slightly to those he'd been talking to and gesturing towards the waiting teen. At the sight, their jaws nearly dropped open, and the carrot-top had to resist the urge to smirk and puff out his chest. Clearly, they'd heard of him. A soft chuckle greeted his hearing, and he blinked, then grinning down at the long-haired teen, shoving hands into his pockets and settling to walk beside him.

"Hey, Kurama. What's up?"

"Hello, Kuwabara-kun. Is there a pressing matter Koenma requires our presence for?" The taller youth shook his head, easily striding alongside his companion's slender figure.

"Nah, not really. Just felt like payin' you a visit. It's been a while, you know?" Trying to be discreet, he fanned out his spiritual sensitivity around them, searching suspiciously for any sign of that 'shadowy presence' Urameshi'd told him about—while doing his best to keep up with the conversation, of course. If Kurama noticed, he didn't appear to.

"Ah, I see. 'kaasan mentioned you visited, yesterday…" He felt an amused gaze fall upon him, and offered a somewhat sheepish smile towards, even as the back of his mind narrowed, sensing a power nearby—

"Ahhh, yeah?" He rubbed the back of his head, laughing a bit. "Well, your mom's cookies are the best, you know! Hell, if Shizuru could cook like that I'd—"

"_What_ was that, my dear little brother?" He shrieked, jumping up a foot in the air before tumbling onto the ground, gazing in fear up to his sister's leering face—and in no condition to register the kitsune's soft chuckles—despite the fact she held a cigarette quite casually aloft, a thin trail of smoke wafting up from the end as she stood beside the other redhead.

"A-Ane!"

"'ttaku. Honestly, Kazu, you should be grateful that you even _get_ a home-cooked meal, every night…"

"She's right, you know, Kuwabara-kun." Here his now-terrified attention shifted to the fox, but Kurama only beamed charmingly at him, visage the perfect picture of innocence. "You should appreciate all the work Shizuru-san does for you." Beside him, she smirked lazily, offering a slight incline of head towards the kitsune in gratitude.

"Thanks, Kurama-kun. I've been telling him that for years. …Oi, and _you_, you ungrateful little—" Here she flicked the cigarette away, instead leaning to catch her brother's collar in a tight grip, face going stony, threatening, as she leaned close. "What's with you staying out all hours of the night when you _should_ be studying, eh?!" She cuffed him on the head, hard. "Do you even want to get into a good high school?! 'ttaku!" Here the beat-down began, the younger of the two siblings squealing in fitful apology as she kicked and punched at him in a steadily-rising cloud of dust.

"After all the effort I go through to keep the house quiet and bring you snacks while you're studying, you're just going to blow it off?! You have entrance exams in a week! If you want to get into that A-class school and become a doctor, you'd better knuckle down and do the work, baka! You can't just skip a night of studying_ because you want to_, anymore! What high school you get into is the big-time! You've got to study hard! Geez, what a bother…" She snorted, stepping back onto the sidewalk and lighting up another cigarette, seemingly invulnerable to the stares that the passersby gave her, and quite easily ignoring the battered-and-bruised bony mess of teenager slumped against the school wall, his face a mosaic of lumps and scratches.

Sweatdropping slightly, Kurama merely shook his head with another small laugh. That is, until shrewd brown settled on him, and she brought his attention up from his team mate as she spoke.

"Na, Kurama-kun…" He blinked at her, softly, before offering a quietly polite smile, sensing a question.

"Hm… ?" Here the brunette exhaled a cloud of smoke, still eying him quietly.

"…have you… been feeling all right, lately?" It was a curious question, and perplexity at the asking of it showed in his eyes for a moment before a slightly warmer smile snuck out to curl over his lips.

"Aa, just fine, thank you." He absently adjusted his bag where it was propped over his shoulder, optics half-mooning in a disarming expression. "Although I've perhaps been working myself a bit too hard, it's nothing a little sleep won't cure." She nodded slowly, to this, gaze lingering on the fox as he excused himself, politely. The elder Kuwabara sibling remained staring after him long after he'd gone out of sight, and when her brother at last rose beside her she interrupted his comment, quietly.

"Maybe he's really all right, and Reikai's just—"

"No, Kazu. Something's darkening his aura." She thinned her eyes only further, at that. "…and it's not just the youko aspect. Something's definitely hovering around him." Here she turned to seriously regard her brother, finding his face now as set as her own. "Keep Kurama in your spiritual sight. He might need help when we'd least expect it." The boy nodded, serious—until she caught him by the ear and he began to flail, helpless against her flat tone and firm grip as she dragged him away down the street.

"But for now, you need to catch up on all the material you skipped, last night, bakayarou!"

: : :

Botan was at the end of her rope. She'd re-typed and re-sent that appeal back to Koenma's desk _six_ different times—didn't her boss read these things?! Surely he would've noticed the same appeal cropping up, over and over…

It was a miserable situation.

Meirin-chan had died seven months ago, and she still refused to pass peacefully on. The little girl just couldn't seem to get aroundthe worry she had over her older brother. If she had been in Ningenkai, it would've been getting dangerous for her spirit, to be wandering around like that for over half a year. Bad things happened to souls that did not have guides. All sorts of demons could snatch them up and corrupt them, or worse, devour them… a soul was a soul. She shuddered. And as—most likely because—she was in Reikai, Meirin wasn't looking any worse for the time passed… but it still had to be taxing. A soul could only survive in a body or in the Soul Plain, for a long period of time. With Meirin-chan not wanting to pass over into the Soul Plain, for fear of her brother's soul…

Oh, not that the girl was in any danger, up here! The limit for souls surviving and still in good enough condition to reach the Soul Plain and reincarnate after wandering in Ningenkai was about six months, but in Reikai it lasted about a year. That didn't make it any easier, though.

Which was why she had booked an appointment with Koenma-sama a few weeks ago. She'd have done it before then, but there was disaster after disaster and the number of souls needing immediate ferrying across increased, and she had had to reluctantly shelve Meirin's case for the time being.

Sighing, the ferry girl straightened her pink kimono and headed into her boss' office, head upright and a bright smile on her face as she peered around the door towards the demigod stamping away at his desk.

"Botan desu! Hairimasu…"

The stamping did not cease even as she stood before the mounds of paper piled on the desk, the brunet god's motions remaining instinctive although a somewhat flat voice rode the air.

"Yes, Botan?" …oh, dear. He was cranky. She smiled past it, though, cutely bending her arms upward at the elbows and giving the illusion of a pretty pink bird, with her kimono sleeves shaped just so and her hands neatly concealed behind the cuffs.

"Koenma-sama. About that appointment? The soul that will not pass on? She has been waiting for over half a year, already, and she's waiting in her quarters—and you will have time to see her, won't you?"

He made an annoyed grunt, waving her off with a hand.

"Yes, yes. I've got it on my calendar. I'll see her."

Realizing that Koenma-sama was perhaps busier than usual, the blue-haired shinigami bowed politely at the waist before excusing herself as quietly as she could. Once outside the door, she slumped back against it with a wearied sigh that did not become her usual cheery demeanor.

One could only hope Koenma-sama wouldn't forget about the poor girl.

: : :

~Three Months Ago~

Now, then. Why had he waited until now to find a present for his beloved mother?

The kitsune walked along the somewhat-unfamiliar streets of downtown Tokyo, clad in a tight pair of jeans, a white T-shirt and his orange jacket, head tipping back to watch the skyline with a slight smile. He had to force down the sudden small urge to search for a tiny silhouette of a figure atop those buildings, wrenching his sight from them, instead scanning the shops for a store that might have something of interest to his mother. To his right, the traffic was backed-up and he quietly assented to himself that taking the subway had been the correct choice. He turned the corner, mind lightly occupied with what Shiori would find as a practical, yet thoughtful, gift…

: : :

Reluctantly, he settled into his new role in the Kanisawa household. The daughter, Tomiko, he found to be little more than an irritant—like to those same hundreds of demon girls clamoring for Shishiwakamaru's attention and victory in the Dark Tournament. Coupled with the fact he was used to acting, to an extent—this experience still strained his ever-calm, although none of it ever showed on the surface.

_Kurama will be worth it._

He would vow this to himself when going about the meaningless tasks 'his' aunt, uncle and cousin bestowed upon him. For all pretenses they had—and there had been quite a few public press conferences—of 'taking in and caring for their unfortunate cousin who was struggling valiantly with the loss of his sister in a freak accident', behind closed doors the humans certainly sang a different tune. The mother was brash and selfish, always stuffing her face… he thought, in an amused fit of insight, that she would have been hard-pressed not to win an eating contest against a Makai boar demon. The husband was in not much better condition—with heavy-lidded, watery eyes that made him appear to be eternally sick, and a slightly squeaky voice that he couldn't quite believe was charismatic enough to wind things his way, in the business world. It left very little to wondering how he had thus become such a 'success'. The man was yet another human who would have been better served to reincarnate as a demon.

The daughter was a thin, wiry, spoiled wisp of a thing. She dyed her hair a platinum blond color, and it was very distasteful the way she was ruining her hair with the treatments. Also, apparently with her parents as fat as they were, she endeavored rather hard not to be related to them in any physical way. Of course, with her inherited metabolism, it meant practically starving herself, but at least her moanings and groanings about gaining an eighth of a kilogram kept him dully entertained with the sounds of another's 'suffering'.

…when they weren't firing the help and insist that he take over all their jobs, of course.

Although it did put him in quite a position to change things, should he ever grow too tired of their presence.

So rich, and yet so very obsessed with not spending more than they needed…

He was delegated to all sorts of demeaning tasks—grocery shopping, dry-cleaning, cooking, cleaning, errands and generally tending to their every whim, no matter how small. It was cutting into his searching time, extensively. As a result, the only time he found a moment to give into his desires and search so desperately for his beloved fox was well after midnight, when they were dulled out into the sleeping haze of the drug he slipped into their nightly dinner. He was careful not to poison them—just yet, at any rate—he did not need a Ningenkai police investigation with his current lack of spiritual ability to result in shuttering him uselessly away in some human prison.

A few months in the Ningenkai had acquainted him with all sorts of interesting aspects of the culture, one of them being how easy it was to arrange for illicit materials to make their way into one's hands. Of course, what with the 'connections' and 'contacts' the two elder Kanisawa had made, their usual providers were all too happy to oblige any request so long as the client bore that surname. It was a bit too easy to break into his 'aunt' and 'uncle's vast vault and help himself to a few funds, which he used to pay the yakuza off in return for the drugs. Aside from apparently being seen as a servant who no one need pay(as he was 'family', after all), he found he fit in rather comfortably with the family's reputation. It was always more to his tastes to slink about in the shadows, anyway. His hair was growing pleasantly longer, as well—parted down the middle as was his habit, and already the strands were brushing the bottom sides of his jaw. When his power began to eventually return, it would grow faster, and so for the moment he compensated by wearing his bangs long(they'd been long when he'd first reincarnated here, but now easily concealed his face if he let them).

As he was eighteen—old enough to be out of high school, but not old enough to be considered an 'adult' in Japanese society, just yet—he could go and do many things. He blended naturally into the background of the seedier parts of town, dark clothes concealing his slimming and pale figure—which he was undoubtedly satisfied by. Despite the fact he had no useable youki, apparently his spirit was enough to begin warping the human form(physically) more towards what he had previously been. It was a small comfort, designated as he was to his current role.

Certainly, not being in control greatly bothered him, but forty years of being crushed under Toguro's boot had enabled him to simply let what could not be changed, pass. He could easily hide his hatred of such beings that kept him under their boot, even fooling them into believing his acting was instead bore from a genuinely genial view towards them(as for the many times he had conversed rather 'pleasantly' with Toguro—especially that first match in which his gaze had been inexorably drawn to his beautiful fox on the sidelines, as the Urameshi boy fought the drunken 'unofficial' head of the Rokuyokai Team in the ring).

Perhaps in these matters, his pride did not enter into it—and he could not deny he was much freer than when he had been Toguro's underling. These humans lorded their power over him, but the power they had was so easily transferrable to himself he found he couldn't mind, all that much. Besides… it was more important that he remain cool and calm, bide his time, and stalk out his kitsune without anyone interfering in his plans. If he followed all of the human family's demands with just the right amount of tempered annoyance coming across, they had no reason to suspect him. Naturally, any teenage human would rebel against such treatment, and so he made sure to act accordingly in situations where such a reaction would be expected and natural, although it was beyond him to actually wish to enter into a shouting match. Quieter means for revenge were so much more satisfying…

Mostly, this 'acting' equated to aloof glances and piercingly smooth remarks that would tear down the humans that surrounded him, if he did not rein himself in. There were also lovely images to contemplate, when he did finally regain his powers… notions of torturing the Kanisawa triad, breaking their minds in ways unimaginable to these quaint little humans who thought they directed and manipulated quite a large part of the Ningenkai underworld. And then, breaking their bodies as well.

Delicious 'revenge', but it was all in good fun, really…

He sighed, content with his thoughts, as he allowed his eyes to slip shut, playing with ideas and thoughts and best rearranging them in his mind for the most effective torment. Utterly serene, he didn't quite notice the shade of red passing outside the tinted window of his limousine. They were stopped in traffic, just barely inching by—they usually took a different route, and had detoured this way in hopes of accomplishing their 'mission' faster, but it seemed all the roads were crowded, today—and so it was not too late when the whiff of achingly familiar youki-mixed-with-reiki dusted past his senses—dark eyes shot open, and he glanced hurriedly out the window, optics widening further as his human heart shot its pace up a good dozen notches.

…Kurama.

_Kurama_.

He could just see that mop of fiery hair disappearing around the end of the block in front of him, and he felt frozen. Palms cold, spine tingling with a jittery air of excitement.

A chance, a chance.

And oh, what a chance. What a coincidence.

Months of searching…

"Please excuse the wait, Kanisawa-sama." The driver's voice cut into his thoughts, polite and apologetic as he glanced back to him from the rearview mirror. "The traffic seems to be—"

Instantly, he smoothed out his face to its usual incarnation of reserved boredom. The dark-haired would-be teen waved an elegant hand, dismissing the apology and letting his voice glide out upon the air, giving nothing away of the elation he felt.

"Entirely understandable. However, I believe I shall meet you there." He offered a mysterious, slightly chilled smile towards the man, optics glimmering slowly behind fine ebony. "I have matters that require my immediate attention." Brown eyes widened in the rearview mirror, momentarily, before they were hastily cast aside with a nod, and with a small smirk of satisfaction that didn't show, he heard the tell-tale sound of the car doors unlocking. Ah, but it was good to be in a family with well-known links to the yakuza and other underworld associations. The help dare not question any odd request, lest they find themselves fired, or worse, their entire family on the mafia's hit-list simply for them 'knowing'—or 'asking'—too much.

The traffic was still immobile as he gracefully stepped from the car, quietly yet quickly stepping into the throng of people amassed on the sidewalk, maneuvering around and blending into them, dark lids set low and ahead as he strolled, shoulders high and proud with collected confidence—although there might have been a hurried sense to his step, as he rounded the corner that that beautiful redhead had just passed, himself, moments ago…

He scanned the streets immediately, dark brown drawn to that same familiar shade of crimson, inexorably. The ebony-haired youth felt a shiver of anticipation. His gaze remained locked on the kitsune, not daring to lose him again and winding around the crowd of humans surrounding him by way of his peripheral vision, all the while attempting to suppress both his reiki from giving him away and the excitement he felt from merely glimpsing the former youko. Spidery digits pet the ward in the pocket of his dark slacks—he carried it on his person each and every day, just in case _today _be the day he found the fox. With the added time it had taken to locate the kitsune, he had added a few improvements onto that first seal—hiding a spell within that would work as well as any tracking device, but nowhere near as detectable as such a tangible(and thus, easily discovered) piece of machinery.

_Careful, careful._ His mind whispered to him as he began to approach the oblivious redhead, winding soundlessly through the crowd, Kurama's back still to him.

_He mustn't know it's you. He'll kill you._ The warning he reminded himself of seemed of little consequence, now—and oh, wouldn't it be a beautiful death if his fox were to kill him, again, wouldn't it be a lovely tragic love affair cut horrendously short if he made one mere misstep(truly, the thought was raising his blood yet further) his gaze was locked on the fox, still, as he dodged around the other humans and another warning screamed in his ear.

_Stop staring! He's trained, he'll sense it… Be discreet, be discreet, keep in control—_ Hastily he averted his vision with a good amount of effort, hearing the dull thud of his human heart against its ribcage take over his hearing. So different than the demonic nucleus he'd had for most of his life, that beat so much slower… was this how the kitsune's heart went, as well? Did it race at times like this—

_Stay in control!_ Kurama, Kurama…

He just needed a brush of skin. The seal would disappear upon coming in contact with the kitsune's flesh—he'd engineered it that way, knowing of the heavy importance secrecy carried in these crucial beginning stages. Oh, he was close, now—if he could have made a bomb, the fox would have been within easy reach…

_Stop! Casual, casual—so he just thinks you're another human…_

It was imperative Kurama think he was just another civilian on the street. Quickly, a slew of excuses for approaching the beautiful youth sprang into his mind. He was thankful for the crowded walkway, and the hour it was—many of the humans around him were likely rushing home from work, or close enough to walk to commute. A slow ache stole his breath as he drew ever closer, involuntarily feeling his intense stare drawn again towards the kitsune from beneath the dark tendrils of his bangs…

His eyes! He cursed low in his mind, hastily fumbling about for the sunglasses someone had pinned to the front of his shirt, earlier in the day. He hadn't intended to wear them, ever—sunglasses were too much of a reminder of Otouto Toguro's fancied 'look'—but… if Kurama saw his eyes the kitsune would know. He would know, because—while the crow could easily conjure a perfectly fake expression—his eyes could never lie. It was part of the reason he was able to unsettle the most confident of youkai—his gaze told volumes, but the mask covering his face and the easily false tone he infused his voice with confused their senses, making them alert and(most often) distressed.

However, that wouldn't do, here. One-handed, he flicked them over his eyes, the world turning a shade darker, but he could still see the kitsune walking only—only a few meters, now, was it? After months and months since he had last seen him, last touched that beautiful pale skin(albeit with only his creations, not his own fingers), last beheld those verdant hues, so full of passion and life and wholesome joy…

A pale hand twitching, wanting to snake out, wanting to touch—and he went with his instinct, the small paper tag of the seal in his hand as he suddenly began to run as fast as possible, glancing at the watch on his other wrist, staring intently at it as though he'd been checking it for a while, just as—

There was a soft cry of surprise, and then he was tumbling over the slim being in front of him—digits itching to touch elsewhere, everywhere but somehow managing to find a patch of bare skin and speedily apply the seal to it without wandering too far or with too long a pause—the scent wafting up from where his nose hovered just a few centimeters above the heady crimson mane made him dizzy with remembrance, of that one time in the hall, after the semi-finals, when he'd finally been able to caress that godly, silky hair…

Almost instinctively his now-emptied arms moved to rest on the kitsune's hips, and the momentum carried him onto the fox, breath hot against the shell of his ear—panting, of course, to portray the illusion he'd been running for blocks, not just a meter or two—and it took all of his self control to then 'hastily' place his palms on the rough sidewalk on either side of the former youko(Kurama's front pressed flush against the concrete, at the moment, the kitsune's own arms having instinctively gone up to protect his face when he fell forward) and push himself off, gasping a slightly breathless(for more than one reason, at least, so his 'acting' no doubt seemed perfect)—

"Sumimasen! Gomen nasai!" His heart all but stopped as those emerald depths peered curiously back at him, and he felt a nervous lump in his throat, trying to brush off the thought that he would be recognized(for that must be the reason for the anxiety)… and pulling his act further, to prevent that, then. The taller youth stood, quickly, curling his lips into a slightly subdued, apologetic smile as his safely-hidden gaze went at odds with his expression—eagerly devouring the redhead while he held out a hand, heart skipping another beat as the other's more calloused one lifted into his own, the kitsune returning—_returning!_—his smile, pink plush lips parting and he was so perversely relieved and disappointed the fox could not see his all-but-innocent stare drop to those moving tiers from behind the dark sunglasses he wore, keeping the apologetic curve firmly where it was—as Kurama both did not react, and at the same moment he achingly missed the terror he loved evoking in those verdant hues…

"Ah, ieie, it's all right…" The taller youth found the other's voice offering a comment, himself too easily slipping into the role he was playing, to avoid arousing the kitsune's suspicion, making that smile on his countenance turn a hint sheepish, the movement of his lips barely visible.

"Are you all right? I am afraid I was in a rush…" He reached, giving into his body's urge for contact, brushing somewhat imagined dust off one of the fox's shoulders, but not daring to aid him as Kurama patted the small bits of dirt and concrete off of his front. It was too close to— A melodic, soft laugh reached the air and he started a bit, gaze immediately drawn to the fox's face where a slight smile could be found.

"Yes, yes. I'm fine. But you should watch where you're going, next time? If you're in such a hurry, a taxicab might be the way to go, ne~?" The kitsune winked at him, scarlet tresses exquisitely framing the twinkling jade, and the detected playful note in his tone allowed the taller's shoulders to relax from the tension they'd gathered, and a hesitant smile replaced the more apologetic one—most likely because he was now sound in his instantaneous assumption that Kurama did not, in fact, recognize him(and thus, all his plans would not go to waste by being killed on the spot). For perhaps the first time, he blessed that spoiled little teenage daughter of his 'aunt's for wanting to make him appear more 'stylish'(by way of the sunglasses that had previously been hanging from his shirt), as he went about the family's errands…

"Aa—gomen…" The kitsune—alluring as always—merely waved it off with another warm smile as he turned away, and the ebony-haired would-be teen couldn't help but feel his lips twitch upward at the corners, even as Kurama could no longer see his expression.

"Be careful, now~!" The airy, teasing comment easily swirled about in the air, but all he could do was stand stock-still as he watched the fox stride away, the meaningless mob of humans seeming grey as that vibrant creature strolled away through them, the waving hand retreating casually back to a pocket.

Long after the kitsune was out of sight he continued to stand there, and ever-so-slowly a darker, more devious smirk tugged at his countenance. It caused an equally low chuckle to rumble up from his throat, and as he turned to head for the grocery where the limo would eventually be waiting for him, he tucked his chin down, ducking to hide the growing pleased grin snaking over his own pale features, the expression only partly hidden by the long tendrils of jet black that draped themselves around and over his face, as well as the high collar of his dark jacket.

Excellent. Seal one was affixed and already working—he could feel Kurama almost at his fingertips, a pulse of reiki telling him exactly where the fox was, how fast he was moving..

How excellent.

This new life certainly granted him a great deal more luck than his previous one had.

…Although.

He paused in his step, realization abruptly dawning for a moment—

What had that been, back there? His heart 'racing'? What human foolishness was this? What strange malady would cause him to feel so nervous around the fox, when he'd done much worse(and much more) than merely pressing a seal onto him… perhaps the difference was that one of them need not die in the near future. At the Tournament, they'd been locked into the unfortunate stalemate of one of them needing to die, to assure a victory for their team—it was the Ankoku Buujutsukai. Any fight not ending in death was utterly boring, in the end, to the audience. At least in his opinion. He had not been lying when he told Kurama he would like to place him by his side, forever…

He sighed, lightly, the exhale drawn out quietly enough. True, the redhead was oh-so-tenacious and so full of warmth he practically radiated it—as seen in their run-in, not minutes ago. Who else would be so accommodating and cheerful, after being run into, like that? …Of course, it could merely be part of the mask he wore, as 'Minamino Suuichi'.

At any rate, this was all irrelevant to his plans. The next focus would be to pick a time when he could affix the second seal—the seal enabling him to gain more ki by sapping a portion of Kurama's—but with that first seal and its newly-added tracking device, he could afford to wait. Flippantly dismissing the rest of the errant musings from his mind, he resumed his quiet pace—intent on finding the grocer's, and procuring ingredients for meals for the week ahead.

: : :

Continuing to make his way down the sidewalk, the kitsune lightly rubbed the back of his neck. There was an unpleasant tight feeling there, a tingle or some such thing. …Perhaps it was merely too much stress. Hiei had been gone for three months, already, and with exams looming…

He sighed, letting the hand drop from the back of his neck. He must stop thinking like that. Either the Jaganshi would return or he wouldn't, but dwelling over the matter wouldn't help anything.

Now. Shiori's birthday was in a few weeks, and it would bequeath him to find the right present. Her boyfriend and his son would be joining them… he had to be sure to give her something special. Perhaps a plant… He took to this, wondering why he hadn't thought of it, before. Spying a trendy little shop with various bowls in their window, a smile snuck over his lips, gently.

She did so like exotic, foreign things, his mother. Perhaps a small plant housed in a beautiful pot would brighten up the kitchen, living room, or the office where she worked as a secretary, just enough…

: : :

~Three Months Later (a.k.a the Same Day in Present Time)~

He stepped out from the train stop, jogging quickly over to a small cluster of bushes, glancing up towards the afternoon sky with a squint. The brunet then tipped his head to the side, trying to discern the time. When this told him nothing—he'd never really studied anything, after all—he blew out a gust of a sigh, slouching back against a tree trunk, fists slipping to the pockets of his jeans. He hadn't bothered with the green uniform, today—chasing Hiei would only ruin the thing, and would get Keiko bitching at him, again. Not that she _wouldn't_ bitch at him for ditching school… He laughed to himself, at the thought. Heh. Yeah. Keiko. Always insisting he should try to 'better himself' by actually showing up to class and doing the work… The tantei shook his head. Can't change a zebra's stripes.

He took to busying himself in the best way he could—he slid down the trunk of the tree, folded his arms securely behind his head, and took a nap.

. . . . . . .

An hour or two later, he was aware of a prod-prodding going on somewhere in the vicinity of his head. Cracking open an eye in a sleep-induced, foggy glare, he blinked once, woodenly, before that particular shade of blue kicked in to identify.

"…oi. Botan!" The ferry girl beamed at him, holding out something in her palm.

"Hi, Yuusuke! Here's the Spirit Compass. We fixed it and put in a lock of Hiei's hair so you can find him, since he's hiding his youki." This was cheerfully announced, and already she was hopping back onto her oar after handing it over to him, feet floating a few centimeters above the ground with the movement. The detective blinked, then, casting sight towards the device in his hand—before a brow lofted, in curiosity. He cast a suspicious glance towards her, even as the blue-haired shinigami's attention was on 'calibrating'—he didn't even know he knew that word!—her oar for a flight back to Reikai.

"—Hey! How'd you get a lock of Hiei's hair, anyway?! You got some sort of stalker-fan-club thing going on?" Her attention drew back to him with a frown, and she lifted a hand, shaking a finger at him as her oar—and she along with it—began to rise, knees neatly pressed together to prevent any(perverted tantei, for example) and all bystanders from seeing up the skirt of her kimono.

"Of course not! Koenma-sama clipped off a piece while Hiei was in hibernation after using the Kokuryu-Ha in the finals of the Ankoku Buujustukai." She smiled prettily as he gaped up at her, neck craning back as she continued to ascend towards the sky. He yelled the last comment, shaking a fist at her even as she disappeared into the sky with a barely-stifled, but very characteristic, giggle.

"…Oi! That's messed-up, you know! Violation of personal boundaries and—" He snorted as she went completely out of sight, slumping back onto the dirt and carefully snapping the wristwatch-look-alike onto his wrist. He depressed the side button, waiting for the circular screen to begin flashing. When it did, thankfully, it worked(unlike that last time, when it'd blown a fuse as he'd tried to use it to find Rando amidst all the other demons clamoring to be Genkai's successor), its arrow swirling around on the dial before settling on one spot off to his left, blipping softly and at long intervals.

…long intervals. Crap. He let his groan be heard, aloud.

With his luck, Hiei had sensed him coming closer and was already working to hide himself—not that the damn Jaganshi needed any more polished hiding skills. Argh. Annoying.

Well, at least the Compass wouldn't lie to him—as long as it was working(…and as long as Hiei didn't try to manipulate it with his youki, like he had, way back when—eh. Maybe he himself was good enough to find him despite that, given their 'friendship', now…).

A grin passed onto his face, at that thought, and he raised the wrist bearing the device, bellowing to the rows of trees that constituted a large forest in front of him, the sound echoing over the dark canopies.

"Hiei! Ready or not, here I come~!"

~*~To Be Continued~*~


	5. Obsession

Disclaimer: I don't own Yuu Yuu Hakusho, or any of its characters. Those belong to Yoshihiro Togashi-sama, who made a lot more out of them than I ever could have. ^^;; I just do fanfiction for fun, and earn no monetary rewards for writing it. Reviews are, of course, worth as much as silver.

Original summary(for this chapter): In the night you come, unwanted. You are everything I would never need. You are the poison that swims in my nightmares. You are… Here.

Title: Second Try  
Chapter Five: Obsession  
Word Count: 6,652

Anime: Yuu Yuu Hakusho  
Pairing: HieixKurama, ?xKurama  
Warning: Shounen ai, yaoi, violence  
Author: Kita Kitsune  
Date: Saturday(earth-day!), August 15, 2009  
Miscellaneous Notes: Funny thing. I wrote the italicized-POV stuff all at once, then decided to go back and put in the 'normal time' stuff. So half of this chapter was written a few days ago, and it's all… mixed-up, now. You might get confused—I almost get confused!—but hopefully I've put enough time labels in for it to work. Going to be rather heavy on the crow, and not much else, because I… didn't feel like writing in the 'Present Time' setting, for some reason. Lots of historical stuff on the way—enough that it will very likely spill over into quite a few more future chapters. ;3

Ah, and one more thing, yes—the really, really, really long run-on sentence(that you'll all know what I'm talking about when you see it) was purposefully written that way. Sorry if it's hard to not get lost in, though. x.x;;

More Notes(August 14, 2009): Review, please—especially since I'm feeling intimidated by a wonderful Youko/Kuronue, Kurama/Kuronue fic I read on , today… wahhh, that author's writing is so much better than mine! ;.; Fawx, and the fic is 'Immortal'. Go read it. …although then you'll never come back to read my drivel, again! x.x Glad I wrote this chapter two days ago, otherwise I'd never have gotten it out after reading her lovely windings and tension and plot that surpasses my own feeble attempts… hopefully I'll write the next chapter tonight and get my steam back, though.

Reviews shall now help boost my writing-esteem back up! Gack… (hey, I'm 'kitsune', after all, I like silver shiny things, what else can I say… x.o;;; Pun. Gah. Please excuse—brain is rather fried, from staying up all night to finish what she's posted of that fic... and reviewing every chapter from chapter three, onward. Reviewing is hard work, we're all so busy… one can only hope the love comes back in a 'similar' form… [hinthint] ;3 )

Thanks to Vixen-of-Ice for last chapter's review! :3

And to everyone else—reviews are always silver love~!

Pretty please with sugar and whipped cream and cherries and sprinkles on top?

[...or shall we made that trussed-up, lovingly violated, pleasurably exhausted foxies on top? x3]

: : : : : : :

_Why was I born?_

: : :

_A baby lay on the ground, crying and wailing, small crackles and pops in the air echoing around him. Its tiny legs kicked and kicked in futile, base attempts at action to make itself feel better. Midwives and demons gathered around inside the room huddled at the edges, too fearful of making contact with the small infant._

_There was a loud crash, and suddenly a regal, intimidating lord stood at the door, shouting angrily at those cowering idly at the sides of the birthing room. A prone form lay, abdomen covered in blood and scorch marks, her dark hair fanned out around her. Nearly-lidded violet eyes moved slightly at the new sounds, then shimmering as a pale, delicate hand wandered out—_

"_Dearest…" Instantly, the boisterous youkai stopped his rampaging, gaze falling upon her. He gasped, running forward and cradling her trembling hand between both of his own, his features slowly shifting from anger to pained—love, could it be?_

"_Mira…" She squeezed the demon's fingers, summoning a faint smile and her lips moved, the youkai's eyes widening even over the screams of the baby left lying, unattended, in the middle of the room._

"_Bring him—" With some effort he managed to compose himself, moving quickly over to the infant and ignoring the cries of the women gathered around the room for him to stop. Hastily, he returned back to her, setting the wrinkled bundle in her arms and moving behind her to help her sit up, a bit. Her sated, heavily-lidded gaze fell to it and she weakly caressed the boy's cheek, humming softly to try and quell his tears. Abruptly, mirroring purple irises popped open, gazing with all the curious intensity of an infant's upon the lady's face. She smiled, fingering the fine dark locks and the baby purred and wriggled, trying to get closer to the sensation. The ebony-haired lady laughed, breathlessly, and her lover smiled over his shoulder at the child, noting as he did so that those indigo optics locked immediately on him._

_~A Few Years Later~_

"'_kaasama! 'kaasama!" The little boy ran for her, giggling and wrapping arms around the woman's waist, even as she sat in her wheeled wicker chair, a blanket tucked neatly over her legs and lap. She smiled to him fondly, ruffling the dark locks that matched her own, identical violet stares meeting in quiet joy._

"_Mm, yes?" He smiled brighter, climbing into her lap and he uncapped his hands, just a little. A small tweet could be heard from within the fleshy prison, along with a panicked flutter of wings._

"_Look what I found, 'kaasama! A pretty little bird! I caught him for you!" She smiled to him, before gently placing her hands over his own._

"_That's very good, dear. But you shouldn't keep such things captive—" With the delicacy of being sure not to injure the small boy's pride, she pried his hands apart and the tiny Makai sparrow immediately took flight, a glimmer of jeweled red and blue against the stormy sky before it disappeared from sight. At the boy's cry of loss, his mother gently took him into her arms, turning over his hands—which were dotted with small, pecked wounds and scratches from the fowl's tiny feet. The lady smiled softly, quietly leaning to kiss his forehead with a tender murmur, effectively silencing his tears. _

"_Beautiful things must be free. You cannot trap them or own them, for only then they will always find a way to run from you…"_

: : :

~Two and a Half Months Earlier~

He cursed the human family and their pointless needs. If they were not hosting a gala, they were complaining that the gourmet meals he had taken to cooking were falling rather flat for their 'refined' tastebuds. In his boredom(thus, during the day when he had no duties and yet could not slip away unnoticed to visit the fox, for they were always calling on him, as they had still done away with all the former servants), he had acquainted himself with the easy luxuries of human life. Books upon books of pages outlining the simplest hobbies—he'd learned to read the human version of Makai script rather early on, in the pampered life of a noble's son—and so picked them up with a hint of disdain, but, perfectionist that he was, he sought to work grander and more noble displays of his growing skills in the kitchen. Not that the humans took notice, they were a bit too occupied shoveling it all into their mouths(aside from the daughter, who he amusedly noticed would look as though pained at the wide feast spread before her before bursting into tears and rushing up to her room to cry—belatedly, he wondered if this sudden interest in the culinary arts might have had something to do with the fact he'd 'conveniently' forgotten she was on an eat-nothing diet…). The speed at which they inhaled his carefully-wrought creations entertained him silently, to no end—he could have poisoned them through a dozen meals by now, but(thanks to his own acting, and their dim minds, never suspecting a blood-relation to kill a family member), tempting as the prospect was, he restrained himself.

He couldn't quite deny the humans did tend to spoil themselves rotten… he hadn't a moment to be free, for training, other than at night—and the nights were often spent either working on the seals that swayed whether or not he would be able to remain here, unnoticed but steadily growing his power back… or seeking out his one tempting anchor to the life he had left behind, the day he died.

Tonight was one such night, and it was with a relieved sigh as he registered the sounds of the humans sleeping in drugged, peaceful sleep above his head(his senses had begun to sharpen, as of late, of which he was enormously glad). He closed the quite-near-antique culinary book resting in his hands, pale digits spreading over the cover and pressing it to the cool glass coffee table beside him as he elegantly raised a long leg over its counterpart's knee. He should perhaps be working on that imperative second seal—in order to sap Kurama's energy, and better restore his own—but the continuous knowledge of the kitsune's location had been burning a hole in the back of his mind since their chance-encounter, a fortnight hence. He could wait no longer, his control was twisting itself into knots at the constant reminder of the redhead's presence in this city, every hour of the day. He could afford himself a simple visit, could he not? Surreptitiously, he angled a glance towards the no-doubt expensive, ostentatious clock hanging above the mantle(idly, he was amused by the humans' extravagance in such tawdry decorations), but allowed himself a muted grin at the time.

It was late—late enough, that any good 'human' high school student with classes in the morning would be well in bed.

It was settled, then. He rose, long, form-fitting black pants clinging to his skin as he absently adjusted the collar of the equally dark button-up shirt draped over his thin shoulders, smoothing out a few nonexistent wrinkles as he went to fetch the lengthy coat awaiting him in the closet. The inky locks had grown out, just a bit more—they were scarcely past shoulder-length, now, but his humans had insisted he either cut it to a 'respectable' length, or wear it back.

'They had a reputation to uphold!', after all.

He refused to roll his gaze ceiling-ward at the memory. A reputation, indeed. For all their seedy and dirty connections, they were quite conservative in their views on dress—and so the onyx tendrils were held at the back of his neck by an inconspicuous cord, most of the day. For now, though… he almost carelessly raked slender fingers through the small, elastic band, decommissioning it and letting the strands work themselves free once it was gone, caressing his cheeks like the fingers of a lost friend. He sighed—he did so miss the tresses and length he had worked so hard to cultivate and care for, in his past life… Short hair simply was not his style. Until he acquired more reiki, or youki, or both(or at least enough that he could spare some for visual effects), though, it would continue its slow human rate of growth.

Pushing these thoughts from his mind, he drew the long jacket around him, almost absently flicking up the collar—old habits died hard, and in his long-gone, well-worn outfit that had disintegrated along with his previous body, after Kurama's plant had quite well used him as fodder… well, the point was he was a fan of high collars. Perhaps moreso, now, since the familiar feel of his mask did not grace his face. As it was night, he did not see the need for sunglasses—few would come near him, anyway. Weak as he was, he quite refused to allow his hard-earned 'presence' of intimidation to wear away… when he needed it, at any rate. No use setting the kitsune's sixth sense on edge(despite the fact Kurama would not be able to actually sense his spirit, due to the seal)—Makai foxes were tricky, and he would be a fool to underestimate his own youko, again—, and rather unintelligently revealing himself when he was still at such a disadvantage.

Black on black, he opened the front door to the dark, silent mansion, and swept away in a languid, unobtrusive flicker of shadow, muted steps fading into nothing.

: : :

_~A Few Months Later~_

_"'kaasama, 'kaasama!" He waved at her, and she smiled weakly in return, her servant pushing her chair as they meandered in the forests at the edge of his lord father's estate. Father had said not to go pulling Mother into the forests, but this was too amazing and beautiful! He had to show her! The dark-haired youth came upon the hole, and grinned impishly before focusing, and letting loose a small bomb—perhaps the size of a firecracker—inside the den. There was the sound of scuffling, and a baby kitsune tumbled out of the hole, black as night, soon followed by his siblings—red and black, as well, and then the larger snout of a red vixen, as she moved to crouch over her babies with a defensive snarl._

_His mother had watched, eyes widening slowly until she gasped as the mother fox tried to defend, reaching out a hand and a soft cry for her boy to listen, to stop—He just laughed, waving off her worries and stepping forward fearlessly, eyes fierce with challenge as he detonated another bomb, this time inside the mother fox's abdomen. She yelped, blood spraying over her kits as she jumped away, and he triumphantly walked forward and scooped up one of the red cubs. She snarled again, and went for his throat, but he threw her an annoyed look—"Leave me alone! I want these! They're mine!"—and another explosion rent her abdomen and she howled, before it was suddenly cut short as her neck burst into bits, successfully decapitating her and sending another shower of blood everywhere._

_He turned, smiling happily—not noticing the blood speckled over his cheek—and walked back to his mother, setting the whimpering, cowering fox kit in her lap._

_"Here, 'kaasama! You get the prettiest red one! I'll take care of the others!" She was too shocked to answer… her little boy had just taken a life, and while that was a bit too ordinary in Makai—she had hoped to shelter him from that aspect of his homeland as long as she could—, it seemed his demon instincts would not be quelled by her efforts alone. She offered a slight attempt at a smile, even as her boy cheerfully went about, gathering up the fox kits and then skipping next to her as the servant, carefully silent, wheeled her back towards the estate._

_They left without a glance backward at the ruined corpse of the female red fox that littered the blood-soaked ground..._

_~A Few Months Later~_

_"'kaasama!" The little boy came barreling around the corner, face stricken and holding in his hands the limp form of a black fox kit. He pushed it at her, scrambling over her knees and gazing up at her imploringly._

_"He's sick, 'kaasama! Fix it! Make him better!" Surprised violet fell to the black pup now occupying her lap, and she ran a hesitant hand over the little kit's fur before stilling herself. She sighed, gathering the little boy into her arms and holding him tight, murmuring into his hair._

_"He's… I can't fix him, dear—" A choked sob greeted that, and small, slender hands gripped onto her sleeves._

_"Why not, 'kaasama?! I kept him, and I fed him and played with him and loved him—"_

_"I know, dear." Her voice was gentle, as soothing caresses brushed through the boy's hair. "But not everything can be fixed. He has died, my dear. And I know it hurts, but—"_

_"Why'd he die?!" Her son wailed, clutching closer to her—"I took care of him, 'kaasama! I tried so hard, even when he didn't want to play so much, anymore—" _

_"Now, dear—" She held him close, keeping her tone soft even as her throat began to constrict. "Everyone and everything that lives must die. It is the way things are. Someday, I will die, and your father will die, and you will have to—" She stopped, abruptly, as he stiffened, looking up to her with wide eyes._

_"'kaasama's gonna… die, too?" She smiled, tenderly, cupping the side of his face with a palm, warmly moving a thumb over the apple of his cheek. _

"_Everyone must die, dear. Someday, you will die, as well…" Tears began to collect in the little boy's eyes, and she almost regretted saying this, but… it was a truth all needed to learn, eventually. She wasn't quite prepared for the way he howled and threw himself onto her, though._

"'_kaasama can't die! No, no! 'kaasama can't die like Ichio did!" Referring to the little black pup… her heart was nearly breaking. She didn't quite know what to do. She felt so helpless to ease his worries, her own fragile health set aside—suddenly distressed, she began to gasp for breath. Another attack—she couldn't breathe! Not quite aware, she was only dimly conscious of someone screaming and batting at her arms before she passed out._

_~A Few Hours Later~_

_"…I see. Yes. Thank you." Out of the corner of his eye, the lord noted the sullen form of his son, knees curled to his chest and arms wrapped around them—thoughtless of the expensive dark silk he wore, that was brushing against the rough stone floor of the hall. That endless violet stare was averted from beneath shoulder-length strands of black, and the lord sighed, closing the door behind him as he waved the Makai doctor away. It was time for a long-ignored, difficult conversation with his son. He took careful steps, sure not to jar the boy with his presence, before settling silently beside him in a cushioned, high-backed chair that had been placed outside the lady's room—for her son, no doubt. Although said son had seemed to ignore the gesture…_

_"Your mother is very sick." His own voice broke the uncomfortable soundless quality of the air that had come between them. The older demon paused, unsure of how to continue. For not the first time, he cursed his status as a prominent lord for interfering with his family life. He knew practically nothing of his own son! Of course, that wasn't to say he didn't have dozens more, but… She had always been special. She was one of the few concubines that was allowed to live with him on a regular basis, despite the fact he did not make so much time to see her or his son—the mere fact he provided for them both was cause enough for gratitude, on her end. Not that he would ever require it of her. She was dear to him…_

_"'kaasama said everyone dies." That quiet voice was almost eerily calm. It gave him an uneasy feeling—the boy had always been so exuberant, so reactive, so passionate… truthfully, he had expected tears and crying. A most unmanly way to take a stressful event such as this, but the boy was still a child, after all… "Is 'kaasama dying?" For the second time, that voice jarred him back to reality and he forced his tone to a professional one, straightening in his chair, big hands wrapping around the ends of the seat's ornate, sculpted armrests and holding his chin high._

_"Your 'kaasama is sick. She has been sick for years. Her condition only seems to be worsening, lately, however." It was perhaps a bit harsh, but his son needed to learn to deal with loss. To be a proper man, a proper heir, this boy must move on from such heartache. Just as he himself was preparing to do. That she had survived the birth was a miracle in and of itself… she was so very fragile. "I would treasure the time you spend with her, at least until she becomes too ill to leave her bed." Quite unlike himself, who would have no such luxury of time. To be a prominent lord, yet still low-ranked enough to be treated as a servant by those of higher rank… it annoyed him to no end, but he could not neglect his sworn duties._

_"Yes, otousama." Here the boy stood, face quietly reserved—a mask, cutting off all around him from his thoughts. The child bowed, gracefully, before turning and silently disappearing into the obscurity of the hallway. The lord watched him go, let him go—the boy needed to come to how to deal with the impending loss on his own. It was best he let him be._

: : :

~Two and a Half Months Earlier(a.k.a. the Same Night)~

He was not quite prepared for how easy it was to approach his redhead's Ningenkai home—perhaps he had underestimated the effects of his seal. At any rate, he was understandably wary as the beacon of the kitsune's youki pulsed softly within its housed human body inside a common-looking, old(but doubtlessly modernized, inside) two-story Japanese house set inside the traditional gate from constructions a hundred years ago, eying the innocuous-seeming plants bordering the building—roses on a lattice, crawling up the front side of the enclosure, ivy up another outer wall, and a large tree situated beside what(he could only hope) was the fox's bedroom window.

The reincarnated youkai reached out his senses as best he could, and was rewarded with the faintest, most unnoticeable flicker of response from the now-invisible seal he had placed on the back of the fox's neck. A thin smile drew up the corners of his mouth, just slightly, and adjusting himself gracefully, so it seemed he'd not even moved—he landed soundlessly on one of the thicker branches of the large tree, form angled just so as to keep him from slipping, hands still hidden in the pockets of his current attire. He cast a mild glance down from where he stood—a two-story jump. Not bad, for a human body—although the lack of effort it had taken was likely from his own demonic soul enhancing some of his abilities. Finally! The more attuned hearing had been slow in coming, as was the sharper eyesight, but this at least was a welcome relief—considering the numerous drastic changes he'd had to adjust to in roughly the past four months, to keep his human façade of an identity believable.

Still keeping a cautious eye on the plant life below him, confident that Kurama would not sense him—although mildly anxious that the protective greenery surrounding this abode might—he kept his thoughts carefully veered away from their usual violent tendencies. He recalled one aspect of their fight in stark clarity, suddenly—and it only solidified his reasons for caution.

_"They do have feelings, so it would be bad for you if you angered them._

_…Oh, it seems they've identified you as an enemy!"_

The sharpness of the youko's laughter washed over him, and to distract himself from the images of bombs, and crazy pods chasing him around the ring with lines of fire spewing from their 'mouths'—he leaned forward, short inky blank strands faintly obscuring his vision until he brushed them behind an ear, impatiently. The branch was thinner, the closer he came to the window, and whilst he did not relish this method, crawling was perhaps the best method, at the moment. Moreso 'stalking', really(to assuage his pride), if he thought about it. Letting his years as an assassin come back to him, he calmly advanced towards the window, violet piercing past the glass pane to search the inner darkness for some sign—

Ah.

He couldn't quite see him as well as he'd like, and a few adventurous fingertips actually dared caress the wooden sill—not bothering to hope that the kitsune slept with his window unlocked, for that would be too foolish of the redhead, even in the Ningenkai—and he shifted his weight to them, peering inside and cursing his still-weak night vision, amethyst oculars narrowing to try and discern—

The moon poked out from behind a cloud, unseen, behind him, and suddenly the window was awash in light. He drew his hands back from the wooden sill, out of the moonbeams' reach as though they burned, gaze otherwise riveted to the scene playing out before him.

_…Gods._

Had Kurama surpassed his previous beauty, in the weeks that had passed since their last brief meeting?

Or, as was the more likely option, perhaps it was that he simply hadn't had the fortune to properly gaze upon him in too long—or so uninhibited as he could, now.

The kitsune was sprawled on his bed, above the covers—open books, scurried-in notebooks and the pen that was no doubt the doer of the written deeds lay on his desk. A potted fern took up the space between the bed and the desk, in lieu of a nightstand. The oblivious redhead was clad in a rosy-colored uniform, of sorts—or at least from the waist-down he was, the no-doubt matching jacket strewn over the back of the chair in front of his desk. A secretive glint of gold somewhere along its magenta folds was hinted at, in the moonlight as a white, socked foot draped itself just over the edge of the yet-made mattress wrapped in light, likely clean, sheets. Its counterpart lay fully on the bed, the knee of it crooked at what didn't look—but must have been—a comfortable angle into the mattress. Scarlet tresses spilled over the shoulders of the white long-sleeved shirt he wore—said sleeves rolled up to his elbows, only one having partially come undone from the tight fold, causing the sleeve to hang three-quarters of the way down his arm.

In the back of his own mind, the darker youkai registered faintly that that white shirt provided the most excellent contrast between himself and the fox—ironic, then, that he was in fact wearing the same style of shirt, only in black… Leaning closer to the glass—although careful not to give himself away and let any part of himself be hit by the moonbeams directed as though with a spotlight onto the scene before him—he allowed his eyes to continue in their repast, falling and outlining and drinking and noticing everything he could about the sleeping angel before him.

That arm was laid out on the bed, on the side facing the window, so the observing demon had a perfect view of how it just bent at the elbow to settle a healthy, slender—_elegant_—hand and the long fingers attached to it just a few bare centimeters from Kurama's turned chin. From his angle, he couldn't quite see the settlement of the other arm, but he found violet drawn instead over the ridges of the knuckles, fascinated, then upward, tracing the baby-soft, lax cheeks with intense—longing, he registered it, building up in his chest and he found himself forcing a gasp, wrenching himself back and feeling a familiar burn at his mind, dark oculars widening at he watched the kitsune sleep on, unaware of his presence…

He was… almost humbled by the sight. It proved most unsettling, this strange sensation burying and stabbing itself into his chest… just watching Kurama—oh, he still wanted and wished he could leap in there and grab the fox by the throat, ruining the entire serenity of the scene as those too-bright jade eyes would immediately snap open in surprised terror—he could imagine it, lids slowly half-dipping to conceal the darkening shade of purple flickering in their depths—Kurama wouldn't recognize him at first, and he would use that chance to pin him to the bed, grinding his hips into the ones beneath and hopefully startling a surprised cry from between those protesting lips before they'd be claimed and he would watch him, intensely observe those beautiful verdant hues as they somehow, inexplicably, impossibly would flicker with sharp realization and then, only then, would the fox _really_ begin to tremble beneath him, fighter's senses coming to the fore as he would kick and shove and try to push the crow off of him—but then he would tighten the pale hand wrapped around his neck and his fox would choke, briefly, horror and anger flashing in the emerald hues as they hardened, staring up at him defiantly even as he would continue to ravage that sweet mouth, that origin of ambrosia, that so-forbidden, deadly-exquisite poison that made true insanity swim in his veins and he would need the fox, _need_ him, need him to be supplicating and wanting and breathless and aroused and altogether ashamed of his pleasure and wickedly beautiful as he would violate him soundly, and—then naked—Kurama would arch into the moonlight, every nerve and cord and tight muscle outlined in silvery magnificence, tears glimmering down his cheeks in shame as the crow brought him again, and again, and claimed him tirelessly until the youko was literally drained, lying slumped on those same light sheets that had been so clean earlier that night, and were now stained with blood from the criss-crossing scratches covering that pliant skin as well as deeper wounds of violation... and only then, only then—

That still form shifting sleepily on the bed jarred him from the fantasy, amethyst going wide once more as he fought to temper his rapid breaths to something a bit less obvious than the shallow panting ripping past his throat—

…No. No. He wasn't awake. Shoulders trembling from the ornate vision, the realism of the daydream he had imposed on himself, he drew back from the window, gaze locked on the again-unmoving form of the sleeping youko—until he hit the trunk, and instantly collapsed against it, eyes closing and attempting to reel in the thoughts and demands that he do just that, live it out, go and take the kitsune as his, and then 'save' him just when Kurama reached the last peak of the night, so that beautiful face would be frozen in the perfect moment in time, the perfect rapture of completion as his soul fled from his body, flying away…

Out of reach.

The shaking had diminished, now, and with careful detachment that belied the warring conflict and outrage he felt at not taking what he wanted, right in this instant, he slipped from the tree, booted feet landing neatly on the ground. The youkai ignored the image of the kitsune painted on his eyelids from staring so long at that fetching scene as he strode briskly away, irritated and still fighting the very-real temptation of at last claiming the youko as he deserved to be claimed.

He had learned, now.

That first seal was yet more important than previously thought—apparently, he was just as invisible to the kitsune's plants as he was the kitsune.

Opportunity…

: : :

_The remaining pups gathered around him, one red and two more blacks—the other red, his mother had released. When he'd protested, she had merely smiled at him and said, once again, _

"_Beautiful things must be free. You cannot trap them or own them, for only then they will always find a way to run from you…"_

_It made him a little angry that she had let the red fox kit go. The kit was a present for her, and she should have kept it! He'd said as such, with a scowl, but his mother had only laughed softly, warmly ruffling his hair._

"_But you gave her to me, didn't you~? What I do with my own things should not be any concern of yours, my dear…"_

_He had grumbled, but she made a good point. He'd taken his four—now three—remaining kits and cuddled and laughed and played and trained with them. Then Ichio—the first one he'd seen, who was all black—had gotten sick and he'd almost tripped over himself trying to make him better. But he'd only gotten worse, and then the kit had started to get colder and colder… until the boy got worried enough, and poked him, but he hadn't moved and so he'd run to his mother with the cold pup, but—_

_Mother said everyone died. Father said Mother was very sick. Was Mother going to die? Was he going to have to watch her die like he'd watched Ichio die? Was she going to want to stop playing, and stop smiling, and stop loving him as she got sicker and sicker? Was she going to get cold and fade away as a shell of her former self, like Ichio had?_

_The wet noses of the foxes around him nudged and poked at him as small paws pressed at his arms and legs. He raised his head, staring blankly at the little creatures as they perked upon having thought they gained his attention, tails wagging tentatively behind them._

_Ichio was dead. The red one—Sano—the bigger black one—Yono—and the smallest black one—Goko—were all that were left. He watched as they grew bored with his lack of reaction and began to play with themselves, indigo optics growing distant. Were they all going to die like Ichio had, too? Out of his control, unable to be saved, they were all doomed…_

_Almost idly, a finger twitched. The playing foxes paid it no mind, but when an explosion went off by Yono's ear he yelped, rolling away only to find himself in the midst of another explosion. His two siblings scurried away in utter terror, and the boy rose, walking slowly over to the pile of dust that had risen from the ground with the bombs. A glint of red hovered in his eyes, and suddenly-obvious, long red nails glowed as the debris cleared, and he saw the limp, ruined form of little Yono in the scorched grass._

_He stood staring at the dead black pup at his feet for a few minutes, before he suddenly began to laugh, bending over and holding his chest, mindless of the acid dripping from his nails starting to eat away at the expensive silk of his dark shirt. _

_It felt so good! Why had no one told him of this?! _

_That it felt so, so good to kill something you loved…_

_Now, Yono wasn't gone. Oh, no. The little black pup was forever **his**, and now utterly unable to be taken away. _

_The spring-fresh memory of Yono would linger in his mind for ever and ever, and he would always have this wonderful feeling of knowing that the pup hadn't wasted away. That he had saved him from a horrible death. He'd killed the little kit! Yono's life was his, now, and that couldn't ever be taken away from him…_

_Slowly, he turned his head, spying the retreating forms of the other red and black pups, running away. He felt a distant shot of worry. He had to catch them! They could run into the forest, and something might kill them! He had to save them before they were taken away from him! The ebony-haired boy ran after them, calling their names with a terrifying glee that infused his voice, glowing red still hovering over his eyes—_

"_Sano! Goko! Come here~! I want to play, I love you~! Come here!"_

: : :

_After the deed was done he was nearly gasping in pleasure, feeling the coils tightly wind around him as he panted, nails embedded in the fur of the two dead pups. His hands bore the scratches of their pathetic struggles to live, and he just threw back his head and laughed, again. It felt so good! It didn't hurt, anymore! All of his worries about the pups dying were gone! And he felt so much better! This feeling washed away his hurt! Giddy with delight, he ran through his mind all the people he liked, in the manor… all the servants who had ever been nice to him. The cook, the maid that came in the morning…_

_Mother. He shuddered, momentarily swaying on his feet._

_Oooooh, Mother. Would it feel just as good to keep her? She was his most precious person. He could keep her like she was, now, in his memory, for ever and ever if he killed her, now—oh, no. Not now. Mother was sick. Father said she would only get worse, but… he would wait for Mother to get a little better. Her life deserved to end in a fitting setting, because she was too beautiful for anything else to be appropriate. And he wanted to keep her just as lovely in his memory. She wouldn't be pretty anymore if he waited too long to make her life his, though._

_Giggling happily at finding a solution to his dilemma, he tossed the furry bodies up in the air, and they exploded into dust before ever hitting the ground…_

_~A Few Weeks Later~_

_"How is your training coming along, dear?" It was the first beautiful day she'd been allowed outside, after her most recent attack—and her son had insisted they go together, just the two of them, with no servants. He had been acting oddly, recently—but…_

_"Just fine, 'kaasama." That voice was pleasant, genuine, but… for some reason, it gave her pause, and the glance she cast back to him was just the slightest bit uneasy, even as her voice was soft, affectionate. She had no reason to fear her son._

_"That's wonderful. How are Sano, Yono and Goko, then? I haven't seen them around, so much…" He chuckled, a gentle sound, and violet hues settled upon her own._

_"I decided to keep them somewhere where they couldn't get hurt." She felt her lips tip down, at the corners, lifting fingers to tenderly brush over her son's cheek._

_"…then you're keeping them inside? M'lord won't like that, they'll make a mess—and besides, dear, such animals are meant to live outside. They're foxes, after all!" The light laughter that followed was warm and endearing—he closed his eyes, savoring it, letting the memory of it fill his heart. Eyes half-lidding, he stopped pushing her wheeled chair, casting a quiet glance around them. No one. Perfect…_

_He moved, then, kneeling in front of her and taking her face in his hands. She blinked softly, in surprise, before offering a slightly bemused smile towards him, and made to rest her own palms over the backs of the hands resting on her cheeks. The violet gaze that was surveying her was so intense—it was as though he was drinking in each and every feature of her face with slow, but firm, scrutiny. At last the silence was too much for her and she glanced away, hands tightening over the slender fingers that cupped her own face, about to comment on—_

_"You are the one I love most of all." The voice surprised her, and she looked up, blinking softly at her son, once more. He looked conflicted but… resigned, was perhaps the word, and she hesitantly lifted a delicate pale hand to touch his face._

_"…dear? You are the one I love most, as well—" She wasn't precisely sure where this was coming from, but… she smiled, nonetheless, feeling the beginnings of tears in her eyes. With his father's hand in her son's upbringing, she knew he had been told to never voice his feelings, that it was 'unmanly'—and so to hear such words of affection, spoken so truly and quietly… it was a great boon, to her. Especially since his father had never been able to handle making such an utterance…_

_He smiled, and although she couldn't help but feel a shiver of intuition at the gesture, she allowed her own returned smile to augment itself, just a notch—_

_Until she felt something detonate within her, and her eyes went wide with pain, a choked gasp spraying blood on her own lips as well as his face. When her vision cleared enough, she at last noticed the odd red glow those indigo orbs across from her had taken… and felt her bones freeze. She had seen that look too often in his father's eyes. The bloodlust. Her boy had never been gentle, but he had been caring—wholesomely caring, wanting to studiously watch over everything he held responsibility over…_

_A disturbingly gentle pair of pale digits caressed her cheek, then, and the velvety voice that reached the air had the same tenor as her dear son's, but the inflection was so, so much darker—what had happened to him, in such a short amount of time? Had he suffered, silently hiding his pain, keeping his troubles unknown to her, while she was sick? She had no time to puzzle over the change, though—_

_"It is all right, 'kaasama. It will stop hurting, soon." Glowing crimson seemed to overtake his vision—and hers, as she couldn't quite tear her now-horrified gaze from her boy's stare… she tried to find him, tried to find the delicate little son she had doted on, so lovingly, since his birth—she tried to find him, but all that met her efforts was that same enraptured stare, as though what was playing out before him was a fascinating, sacred, once-in-a-lifetime performance…_

_"I—" She coughed as another explosion ripped through her, cutting off her words and was only mildly aware of circular, hovering green things hemming in her view of the world—then, she realized his hand had retreated. She reached out for him, trying to find her son amidst the haze of floating death—but that hand brushed one of the glowing orbs and she cried out as it and its fingers were blown clean off, bleeding heavily as she cradled the broken stump to her bloodstained chest. It was getting darker—she could just see the silhouette of his figure beyond the obscurity, and tried to voice something once more, but the blood stuck in her throat—_

_Another slew of bombs went off, exploding the last remains of the wicker chair and the body that had been settled upon it, a still, quietly enchanted voice piercing the air in the aftermath of still-smoldering silence as the blissful feeling settled into his chest, lifting him up onto the wings of rapture._

_"…I love you, Mother."_

~*~To Be Continued~*~


	6. Journey

Disclaimer: I don't own Yuu Yuu Hakusho, or any of its characters. Those belong to Yoshihiro Togashi-sama, who made a lot more out of them than I ever could have. ^^;; I just do fanfiction for fun, and earn no monetary rewards for writing it. Reviews are, of course, worth as much as silver.

Original summary(for this chapter): In the morning I see you against the dawn. You are the other half of my restless soul. You are… In the night he comes, unwanted. He is…

Title: Second Try  
Chapter Six: Journey  
Word Count: 5,955

Anime: Yuu Yuu Hakusho  
Pairing: HieixKurama, ?xKurama  
Warning: Shounen ai, violence, language  
Author: Kita Kitsune  
Date: Tuesday(fire-day!), August 25, 2009  
Miscellaneous Notes: Oya, oya. I suppose I'll stop asking for reviews, now? Since no one reviewed the last chapter, I guess I'll just keep going on in my fight against futility, and I would hope if anyone's severely OOC or something turns a bit stupid in this fic I'll get a good, hearty flame that will just kill my urge to continue this story(or fix it, depends on my mood). D:

Seriously? This story has over 450 hits and less than 10 reviews(288 hits and 10 reviews on the dot, for FF). So, people are reading, but not reviewing. That rankles, somewhere. You might even get me in a bad enough mood where I'll write and write and write, and just not post any new chapters. Because, you know, I'm apparently just writing this fic for myself, since no one takes the time to review, anymore(yes, that was my bratty rant for the night. I'm under a lot of school-money-stress and _forced_ myself to sit down and finish this chapter—for nobody—while I'm going insane about school-stuff and so am in RAWRmode, so, stfu). Grawr. You don't want to see me on a bad day(I draw blood).

[Yes, I'll feel bad about that rant in a day or two—but it needed to be ranted. You people frustrate me, sometimes. And I know it's just me craving confirmation that my stories and ideas don't _suck_, but **damn **I hate the insecurity of the whole read-if-you-like-and-so-review thing versus the if-you-read-but-don't-review-it-must-mean-the-story-sucks thing. D: I hate people. I really, really,_ really_ do.]

Ah. Also. I added a new part. It's been bouncing around inside my head for a while, and the nine-hour drive to the first jump before the six-hour drive to college helped me hammer it out. Had to add it into this chapter, because if I wait too long it'll be too late to incorporate it into the general storyline. Can't say too much, or I know I'll give it away(I'm bad with things like that). See if you can tell where it's going, though(I'd be impressed if you could!).

: : : : : : :

_~A Few Years Later~_

"_Son!" He heard what was fast-becoming a customary call, heavily-lidded eyes tipping lazily to watch as his lord father burst into his room, stomping inelegantly over to him. Every line of the elder youkai's countenance was trembling in rage, and the dusky-haired demon blinked slowly, offering a slow smile up to his bulky sire—not affected at all by the bloodstained, scorched, barely-recognizable-as-once-being-an-apron bit of cloth clutched furiously in a calloused hand as he reclined languidly atop the fanciful, ostentatiously-carved wooden, cushioned divan gilded with gold._

"_What is the meaning of this!" His father shouted again, shaking the rag once more, his face pulsing almost purple with rage. The tone that echoed out from his son was cool, collected._

"_She must have had an accident in the kitchen. How unfortunate. I always rather liked her…" His father frowned, leaning down to eye the teen. The dark-haired youth merely offered another slow smile, violet glittering coolly in light of some well-hidden amusement at his sire's suspicion. "…come now, Father. What reason would I have to harm her? Surely you recall how nice she has always been to me…" That voice was saccharine, smooth and soothing all at once. He told no lies—for he hadn't 'harmed' her. He had saved her. Saved her from withering away into death, as all sought so fruitlessly to do… It was, indeed, a careful choice of words—but one must learn to be careful when concealing murder._

_Granted, he **had** liked her—but he was quick to realize that using his explosives to always bring forth death was both rather impersonal and achingly personal. After all, they were made of his own ki… a "Quest Class" talent that his father had boasted of after his ki-determining ceremony had ended years ago(and thus he procured only the best trainer-tutor his vast fortune could buy)—but rending someone with one's bare hands, knives or other instruments could be so much more satisfying. To feel one's lifeblood coat your fingers in its sticky, sacred, coppery waves… _

_His beloved creature-bombs also carried the unfortunate after-effect of being a rather obvious giveaway that the death had been of his doing. They were anything but subtle…_

_This particular maid had joined only last month—there was a continuous surge of on-the-job accidents occurring at the manor, as of late, and it was beginning to become a bit difficult to find replacements—and he had taken a reticent pleasure in sampling her physically, first, before plunging the butcher's knife deep into her heart. After licking his fingers clean of the blood from her mangled form—just minutes later—and once having carved up the dead body, a bit, he'd brushed nonexistent stains from the dark silken clothing he wore, and strolled contently away—although he was careful enough not to leave carmine footprints in his wake._

_He was becoming better and better as time went on. It was a high he did not wish to grow tired of—it simply made him feel a surge of delight, now, every time he saw a beautiful young maid or handsome young servant enter into the manor's service. To contemplate ripping their nervously smiling mouths apart, ravaging them and hearing them scream in both pleasure and agony as he tore them in twain… and usually all it took to ensnare them was an unruffled, lustful gaze from beneath shady lashes, and a well-worded, sultry utterance. He was drop-dead gorgeous, and he was well aware—just out of the blossom of youth with a forbidding dark quality to him, and it drew potential lovers like moths to their doom._

_The once-short sable strands now dusted their tips along the center of his back, and he had taken to fingering them as a habit, liking the feel of silk sliding over and through his digits like poisoned water. It certainly fit his image, now—_

_Although none topped the high he'd felt, after his mother's death(he doubted his father truly suspected it was him who had caused her to leave this world)… but that elation, that utter spike of gratification he'd been ridden with, just moments after her body had been burned away by the fires of his bombs._

_It had lasted for hours._

_He had yet to find a way to top that._

—_So he began playing with his victims. _

_~A Few Years Later~_

_For the most part, he had succeeded—although it was hard to be in control of himself to the point where he would actually grow attached to any one lover before allowing himself to kill them…_

_As a result, the number of murders taking place at the manor had diminished, now that he'd found something of better value to occupy his time—instead of merely killing something beautiful the moment he laid eyes on it, he would wait. He would coax it to a slow destruction, and just when it had reached the fever-pitch of being practically irreplaceable—he would save it. Invested 'saving's were so much more exquisite(not that he didn't still 'save' the occasional pretty new maid or servant), but only the ones he really came to like—only the ones that deserved to be saved, to be preserved forever in their current image of youth and beauty—were dealt with in the harrowing embrace of his deadly creations…_

_Killing was, of course, different. He hadn't outgrown that particular trait—he could kill without a second glance, but it was still so enjoyable to confuse an enemy by playing with their mind, assuming dramatically understated poses, shooting coy glances and suggestive comments their way, only to laugh offhandedly and wave the actions off as 'jokes', effectively denying what he had just so cunningly evoked._

_It had the lovely effect of putting his victims yet further on-edge._

: : :

~Four Months Earlier~

Soft, fragile-looking hands clasped each other. The bearer of them seemed to be having a hard time finding her voice. The one sitting across from her appeared to have no such trouble, and was indeed quite relaxed, sipping some tea.

Quite a few minutes later, a stuttering request trembled cautiously to the air.

"Genkai-shihan… I am not ungrateful for the training you have given me, as well as pairing me with Touya-san in helping me control my ice powers, b-but I… I… I followed everyone to the Ningenkai in the hopes of finding my older brother, because I sensed he was near me, in the Ankoku Buujutsukai, but now…" She took a deep breath, here, wishing to word the next sentence as politely as possible, digits twisting minutely into the fabric of her kimono where it covered her thighs.

"I do not sense him in this city, any longer."

"Then he's not here." Wide red looked too startled for a moment, but the old woman continued sipping at her tea, only resuming her comment after she had quietly set the cup down, dark brown meeting the ruby oculars across from her.

"Yukina. If he were here, you would have sensed him. Since you do not sense him, he must not be here." She at least attempted to make her gruff voice less-so, with this. The koorime was not fragile, as so many thought her to be, nor was she stupid or naïve of the ways of the world. However, the girl was still looking a bit too shell-shocked in her opinion, and her natural impatience caught up with her.

"You sensed him at the Dark Tournament, did you not? That was what drew you there, yes?" A nod. Good, she was responding. The sakura-haired old fighter offered a mirrored nod, at that.

"Then it is fine if you wish to go search for him. You do not need to ask my permission." Another surprised blink, here. She had to fight the urge to snort. What, did Yukina expect her to treat her as a child? The ice maiden was certainly not a child—no more of one than Hiei was.

"But—Genkai-shihan—Touya-san and the others—"

"They will do fine without you. They enjoy training with one another enough, and Touya is easily the most level-headed of them all. He would not mind changing from a teacher to a sparring partner, once again."

"But I… Genkai-shihan—" Irritated brown slid open behind the wrinkles lining her lids, and she frowned at the girl, sizing her up for a moment before speaking in a tone that rang of finality.

"Yukina. You have traveled alone, before. Your ice powers have increased considerably since you started training with Touya and the others three months ago, after the end of the Ankoku Buujutsukai. You came to Ningenkai, and stayed in this city because you sensed your brother in this vicinity." A thought occurred to her, then, and those chocolate oculars narrowed in sudden realization. The sea-green-haired demoness abruptly looked to the side, averting her eyes.

"…you have not sensed him in this area for quite a while, is that it." It was not a question. The koorime offered a hesitant nod, red depths still aimed off to the side, slender digits gently twisting the fabric of her kimono in her lap.

"N-not for two months, at least, Genkai-shihan…" The pink-haired woman couldn't help her next outburst, tone gravelly and loudly annoyed.

"What's the idea in waiting so long to tell me about it, then! If it's so important, you should have been on your way months ago!"

"Hey, don't ya be yellin' at Yuki-chan!" A loud gale of wind brought down the door, and the youkai perched atop it looked mildly pissed—which was, for Jin, an oft-passing moodswing. His dramatic entrance revealed the crouched forms of Chuu, Rinku perched atop his massive shoulders, and Touya just barely discernible in the shadows of the room just beside.

"I knew I smelled something foul. You lot, go take a bath! This is a private conversation!" No one paid the shouting, snapping reiki-master much mind, as Jin floated over to the ice maiden, upside-down so that the masses of bright cherry-red windswept spikes concealed the small horn in the middle of his scalp. He grinned at her.

"Na, na, Yuki-chan! You should go find him, if he's that important! We'll even come with you if—"

"Baka! Reikai doesn't even know we're here! If we go outside this temple's boundaries they'll send us back to Makai!" The ever-incorrigible Rinku had bounded in, whacking Jin on the head with one of his yo-yos and complaining loudly against the suggestion.

"Naw, but Jin's right, 's no goo' idea fer yuh to be wanderin' about Nin'nkai without an escurt…" Chuu ambled in along after the rambunctious boy, leaning on the young demon's head, deaf to his shouts, and grinning down at the demure koorime.

"While your sentiments are admirable, Chuu, this is something Yukina-san must do by herself." The calming voice within the entire storm, Touya had strode in silently and now kneeled down beside her, offering a barely-perceptible smile. "Ne, Yukina-san?" She found a smile amidst her surprise, at that, and offered a warmer, assenting expression towards the entire gathering of demons—more friends, she'd realized, than she'd ever had in her entire lifetime, locked away atop the Koorime Island, Hyouga, shunned by the 'normal' girl-children, ostrasized for having shared the womb and actually _touched_ and _grown with_ the abomination that was her older brother—only Rui, after her mother had committed suicide so early on, had taken her in… due to her gender, ki-type and appearance she was not jettisoned off the isle as her brother had been, but it was made clear that if she ever were to leave… she would not be permitted to return.

Perhaps they had worried she would find her brother, and bring him back with her, show him the way to Hyouga so that he could burn all of them alive… She was not naturally inclined towards such thoughts, but when greeted with such open hostility for one who had, in her opinion, done no wrong other than being born—it sowed seeds of darkness in her heart. Ones she tried to ignore, for the most part, but… she did find herself hoping, not admirably, that her brother _would_ return, and burn away every one of those cold, cold maidens living aloof and so, so, _safe_ on their floating island of cruel traditions and unflinching 'morals'...

: : :

It was a warm morning when she left, her kimono tucked safely away in a knapsack lent to her by Genkai-shihan for the journey, in favor of more 'current' clothes—a brown turtleneck, a long red skirt and a flowing, dark blue, mid-length cape, buttoned-up to 'keep out the cold'. She could not determine the precise location of her brother… but if she closed her eyes, a warmth in her heart would leap out, flickering off towards the northern regions of Japan. With a smile and slight bounce in her step—old brown boots of Genkai-shihan's, that the elderly fighter hadn't worn for years and years—she raised a hand, clasping it tightly around the nearly-glowing blue hiruiseki hung from a cord around her neck, and went on her way, the bright, pale-green braid neatly done down her back gently swaying with each step.

She would find him—this time, for certain!

: : :

~Two Months Earlier~

"Hiei!"

It was the worst possible situation. He could feel his heart constrict with every ragged breath the Jaganshi took, eyes dilated in horror as the scene played out before him. How Hiei had managed to usurp his fight with the crow demon, he would never understand, but to see this…

There was no elegance to it. The taller youkai almost seemed in a foul mood, for he kept shooting irritated glances towards the horror-stricken fox on the sidelines, barred by tournament rules(as well as Yuusuke's firm hand on his shoulder) from running into the ring, voiding the match and going after the crow's blood for himself, for revenge, for making Hiei…

_Kurama._ Then he was jarred back to reality and jade oculars moved to meet the bloodied, bruised, beaten face of his once-lover, that he still so—that he still… He could feel tears collect with the strong emotion welling to the surface, feel his throat constrict as he tried to take a step forward, but the teenager's hand on his shoulder stilled his movements like a vice, his feet were rooted to the grass surrounding the ring, verdant hues no doubt shimmering with the stagnant moisture in their depths—

Hiei smiled, it appearing crooked from the angle. Impossibility itself, the ever-grumpy demon was smiling, looking over his shoulder at the redhead, the arm sporting the torn dragon tattoo hanging limply at an odd angle even as the onyx-haired youkai held him by the collar of his shirt, violet eyes sneering at not the Jaganshi in his grasp, but Kurama, from over their mask—perhaps a flicker of unidentified emotion, here, anger, jealousy, wanting to take, wanting to make the fox hurt before he was killed—but that flash was all gone in an instant, and the arena became awash in light…

: : :

"Hiei!" He gasped that last resounding scream he could hear his own voice echo in the nightmare as he was dragged startlingly from it, breaths erratic and terrified as he forced himself to calm down, forced himself to recognize the ceiling overhead as his own—as Minamino Suuichi, as Shiori's son, as someone who should not have such terrifying dreams—not allowing himself to close his gaze off from the world, for he knew what would greet him if he did. Instead, he concentrated on the sweat-soaked scarlet bangs half-obscuring his vision from where they'd sprawled, during his nightly tossings and turnings, raised a hand to half-heartedly brush them away as he at last felt well enough to let his gaze slip shut, willing his breath to even out.

A dream. A _dream_.

Hiei had never fought that twisted demon, and he never would.

That… the only surviving member of Team Toguro was Bui, and perhaps not even Koenma knew where he'd disappeared to, once he was freed from the Toguro siblings' service.

Although—he hadn't had these sorts of Tournament-related nightmares in months, not since the end of the Ankoku Buujutsukai, thankfully, but in the past fortnight they'd suddenly risen again, as though mocking him, or warning him, of…

No, no.

The mere notion was utterly impossible.

After all, he'd seen, himself, how that vampire plant had finished the demon off…

As for Hiei—

He should not be dreaming such dreams about the Jaganshi, anymore, should he?

Dimly, he realized with a small twinge of disgust that he was covered in a cold sweat. Shaking his head momentarily free of the conflicting, distressingly circular thoughts, he sat up, running a hand back through the tangled mess of red curls that flounced over his shoulders and back. He'd contemplated sleeping with it tied back, but with the notion came unbidden thoughts of Kuronue, and his infamous ponytail, and…

Needless to say, he never _quite_ remembered to tie it back before he went to sleep, after all.

Sighing, that slender thief's hand moved to rub its palm gently over his own face, as he stood. Arching his back, only half-aware of what the scene might look like to someone outside his window—mussed long, bright tresses twinkling merrily in the sun and sticking up everywhere, his stretch revealing the smooth, pale expanse of his stomach above the pajama's waistline—he at last relaxed, shoulders slumping forward before straightening themselves, properly. Running a hand over the hair at the back of his head, he wandered, somewhat bleary-eyed, towards the bathroom—loathing the idea of taking another shower, when he'd just had one last night, but overrun with the metaphorical need to wash himself free of that dream and its implications—closing the door behind him and starting the water.

Oh, but he was glad this old house had been remodeled to more Western standards… each bedroom having a personal bathroom was most definitely an improvement on the older accommodations.

: : :

"Suu-kun! Are you ready? It's about time to—" She stopped upon seeing that he now descended the stairs, not a strand out of place, and looking quite dashing in the black slacks and inky button-up he wore. It made the color of his hair all the more vibrant, and the brunette smiled at him before blinking softly, and tuttutting as she went behind him, reaching up to pull his hair back with a small, discreet tie.

"Now, I know you like to wear your hair down, Suu-kun… but, just for today, ne? After all…" Her tone faded off as she slipped into sadder memories—but his hand on hers brought her out of it, as well as concerned-but-understanding green cooling softly into her own darker eyes. For the past twelve years, those same eyes had gazed quietly at her, on this very day… But at some point it had changed, from her taking care of him, to him taking care of her.

On this day of days…

She mustered a well-managed smile, patting the low ponytail that captured all but those two stubborn forelocks that wouldn't be coerced from their places framing her son's face. They proceeded to the door without much trouble, and only after she'd locked it did she link an arm through his, adjusting the hat with its accompanying half-veil atop her head and smoothing out the bottom of her knee-length ebony skirt.

With a soft breath, and a small squeeze onto her redheaded boy's strong arm, they were off.

: : :

The walk was uneventful. It was a cool morning, the breeze brushing this way and that, ruffling their hair but not quite strong enough to lift the lady's hat from her head. They strode along at an unhurried pace—on this day, they were always sure to clear enough time to serve their needs. The world could wait. For just a few hours, the world could wait…

Mildly allowing herself to get lost in the scenery, as they wandered—it was only at the soft, tenderly-hushed words, same as always, did she startle back to reality—

"'kaasan. We're here." She offered a nod, slipping her arm from her son's and placing her palms together in prayer, bowing her head before the grave—the family grave, now embedded with yet another name, which would one day hold her own, as well as her Suu-kun's…

_Dear. I do hope you're doing well, wherever you are. Suuichi-kun has not changed so much, since we last visited—he's so much older, now, and I know you're watching over us both. He does seem to have gained a few friends…_

She smiled at her own thoughts, despite herself.

_They're a bit rough around the edges, but they're good boys. I've seen them together, sometimes—Suuichi laughs and smiles so much, around them! Ah, but… is it all right, dear?_

She pinkened, slightly—how foolish of her! Acting like a schoolgirl admitting a crush…

_I've… I've met someone. With Suuichi old enough, now, and… well—it just sort of happened. He's a co-worker of mine, someone at the business… now, don't be like that!_

She could just imagine her late husband pulling a face at the thought of her falling for a 'boring, old salaryman'…

_He's… different. He cares about Suuichi, as well, and has a son of his own… I don't wish to seem disloyal, but he's—_

Suddenly, she felt a wash of comfort spread over her. Closing her eyes, she felt the spirit swarm around her, as though embracing her—she did not feel an ounce of anger or the hint of betrayal… and she knew he was all right with it.

_You've waited so long, I was beginning to wonder if Suuichi'd always have you all to himself!_

She held back a laugh—how odd it would look, laughing in a cemetery!—, even though it was quite possible she'd only imagined the response… but oh, how it sounded like him. Her heart ached, a moment, and her eyes slowly opened, settling on the gravestone before her.

_Thank you. I will always love you, my dear, but I am glad you will allow me to move on…_

Footsteps brought her back, and she raised her head, just now noticing that her son was walking back towards her, his expression soft and warm, a few rebellious carmine strands frolicking along his cheeks in the wind. Had he given her privacy? How thoughtful… The brunette woman smiled in return, turning back to the headstone and clapping her hands twice, before releasing a breath. Time to let him do the same. She turned, walking towards him—pausing only to set a palm on his shoulder, an appreciative glance up to this boy, her only son, before releasing it and continuing on her way, down the short path he'd just taken, giving him some time alone with the grave, and his thoughts…

: : :

Once his mother was safely out of earshot, the redhead shifted to quietly meet eyes with the spirit hovering just above the grave.

_She's doing well._ The ghost's expression was almost wistful, a smile tugging at his lips as he watched the woman walk away. The kitsune remained silent as that gaze settled on him, serious and quiet.

_You've taken good care of her, Suuichi._ A subtle smile tugged at the redhead's lips, even as he lifted his head, to better see the one above him, optics glittering with a sad irony at the name.

"You would yet call me that? Even though you've known, ever since that day…" The spirit snorted, narrowing its eyes his way from behind its glasses, adjusting its floating seat just above the headstone.

_Youko or not, you're still my son. You're still Shiori's son. You have looked out for her, at great risk to your own life--**Don't** think I wasn't watching that Dark Tournament!_ The ghost grinned, pointing at his 'son' while seeing, satisfactorily, the mildly-surprised gaze upon the green-eyed youth's face as he interrupted what the redhead was about to say.

_That's right! You did our family name proud, even if most of the demons there saw you as 'Kurama'…_ He waved a hand, brushing off the minor detail, before growing serious once more, and leaning back in his invisible 'seat' above the grave.

_You be careful, though, you hear? Something's going-on around you, although I can't put my finger on it…_ A mild smile tugged at the fox's lips, here, and he couldn't resist a small return of his 'father's' teasing.

"You haven't had the ability to touch, for years, 'tousan."

_Hey! Just because I'm dead doesn't mean you can—_ Huffing, he cut himself off, beginning to float upwards towards Reikai while waving a fist at the slowly-shrinking youth below him.

_Suuichi! Don't forget to come back next year! And bring this 'Hatanaka' and his son who I've heard so much about!_

Soft chuckles floated up to him, as well as the barely-audible response(from how high up he was, and the fact the redhead was whispering) from the son he'd come to know so much more about, in death, than he ever could have, in life—

"Of course, 'tousan."

: : :

_Years passed. Centuries passed._

_Of course, his father had eventually found out the cause of his mother's so-sudden death—it still remained a mystery as to how, and forever would, with the lord gone—and had disowned him and fully intended to throw him out of the manor. Luckily, he had killed the demon before this had happened, adding yet another satisfactory death to his list of murders. And murder it was, for he held no lasting affection towards the demon who had sired him—it was merely a business transaction. His father may have disowned him as heir, but the ebony-haired youkai had effectively silenced the lord before the words ever hit the ears of anyone else. He had idly dismissed what remained of the help, at that point—seeing as no more of them were worth saving, in his eyes—and closed-off the mansion before taking up wandering._

_His entire life, he had been secluded in that manor. He was well into adult age, now, and he felt it to be high time he ventured out. His potential had not yet been reached—it had taken him centuries to slowly climb in the stifled training sessions with his tutor from low E-class in his childhood to a high D-class, now. His since-childhood tutor was not particularly stunning, and so he had uninterestedly dismissed him along with the rest of the surviving staff._

_He traveled here and there, taking up challenges, losing some and winning some—and then winning most, as he grew stronger—taking lovers, 'saving' the ones that were really special, dismissing the ones that weren't(or merely killing them out of boredom)…_

_Time continued to pass, and soon he grew tired with this way of life. He joined an assassin's guild on a lark, determining that using his skills at murder to earn greater monetary profit—not that he needed it, what with that manor of his father's still packed with gold and treasure(although he'd heard a rumor along the way that it had been ransacked by a group of thieves, in recent years), and it was always more fun to live on one's own earnings as opposed to growing lazy and boring with the monotony and lack of day-to-day struggle those riches gave him—was preferable. _

_Perhaps that was the other reason he had taken up wandering from that secluded mansion…_

_As it was, this move was what caused him to meet Bui—then-weak, a low C-class that mostly outmatched him in brute strength—as the guild assigned them to work with one another, as partners. Perhaps here he had found his first true friend—the more muscular, well-built man might have sparked some level of appreciative lust in most(although he didn't speak much, he had a lovely low baritone), but for his own standards the obsidian-haired demon found him to be a bit too similar to his father. Despite the fact their personalities were wildly different, Bui never seemed the sort to look down on him for his… 'quirks', as he came to refer to them. _

_The slightly younger youkai did not bat an eyelid if he were to walk into their shared living quarters, only to find the crow elegantly tracing lurid symbols or poetry onto a recently-deceased patch of ivory skin, his mattress blood-soaked and in shreds—the maimed corpse of a 'lover' he'd taken to bed that night barely recognizable as once being a living entity. Plum-hued optics were heavy, watchful, under their half-lids, waiting for the judgment or horror that came all too easily into the eyes of the few that discovered him. In fact, he was beginning to relish that look of horror, as he was so rarely caught indulging in his more… violent… fantasies—_

_However… that judgment never came. Bui would merely spare a single, unaffected glance towards the ruined form, grunt, and turn to head to his own bunk with the lowest mutter of—_

"_They will stop replacing your beds if you keep doing that." The comment, oddly enough, would bring a dark chuckle from the slender, pale creature reclined quite comfortably on a plush chair in the middle of the room, head canting as slivers of fine wine pierced the night, carrying through the obscurity to the demon's back between stray strands of fine shadow. In showing him his back, Bui had no fear of him. It was a strange sensation, one that was as unfamiliar as having a companion…_

_It was in this way that he slowly began to realize, as the decades dragged by, that he had no desire to 'save' Bui, as he had so many others. The demon was not intimate with him, in any way—neither physically or verbally, they never exchanged words concerning anything but the barest level of communication—, was not precious to him in the way his mother had been, was not breathtakingly beautiful or stunning or, really, anything out of the ordinary for a former mercenary-turned-assassin…_

_In fact, he began to bask in the newfound interest of his life—instead of merely killing to save, he was killing simply to kill. For greed, jealousy, hatred—any amount of emotions that his employers had given sway to in order to lead them to hiring one or both of them. Contrary to his most-beloved method of killing—his bombs, it was a personal fetish, what could he say?—the crow could be the deadliest at night, like a snake, leaving a knife in the back, through the head, the chest, or the mouth to ensure his target's demise. If he was feeling particularly humbled by their beauty, he would carve them up a bit, make their death do them justice—but tried to refrain from this urge, as—if indulged in too often—it would make him easier to track down. His partner was too often the lookout, keeping himself concealed in the hall outside the room where the deed was being done, and they had developed their own secret signals of movements, sounds or ki-alerts… in the worst of cases, Bui would silently dispatch anyone who came too close, and the two would flee well before daylight, leaving the castle inhabitants to discover their lord's demise—or some such similar result._

_They continued on like this for years upon years—the bond between them never quite grew, but it never really deteriorated, and so they were content to keep that affably unspoken, distant understanding between them. They grew to be feared, their joint names(although in the underworld, only) when spoken together instilled fear in the lowliest of bandits and terror in the highest-ranking of rulers. With the help of the guild, they kept themselves hidden—until the day of that certain request._

_The Ankoku Buujutsukai had caused some stirrings, when a human team claimed the championship prize. The crow did not consider it of his concern to keep up with the inane rabble of demons clamoring for news and gossip(and Bui had never been one for the outside world, either)—they had been planning a particularly tricky murder around that time, as well—and he was quite content to remain outside of the spotlight, so he never went to view(or enroll in) the infamous Tournament that would live on in legends… that of the very first Toguro Team, consisting of a few nameless human martial artists, a young woman of some renown among the inhabitants of Makai(or would-be usurpers of Ningenkai) as Genkai, and a tall, strapping young man who was the team's namesake._

_Thus, ten years later, when he received orders from a client that both he and Bui had been commissioned to assassinate some high-profile human correspondent who had backed out of a deal, and his gaze scanned over the name 'Toguro' not once, but twice, on the list of bodyguards… he did not bother to give it a second thought._

_That botched job heralded the end of their freedom—the enslavement would last for the next forty years._

: : :

_He'd done it! He'd really done it!_

_Excited, the little halfling-kit scrambled over the brambles and bushes, ki clumsily fanning out around him and parting the thickest of the vines, voice echoing out in a strange, garbled combination of a voice and a bark._

_"Mama! Papa! Did it!" He paused, only a moment to admire his **furless** hands, then running both palms back through the silky shoulder-length crop of silver hair and he giggled, taking off again, tail wagging happily behind him, sharp triangular ears twitching merrily._

_"Mama! Papa! Mama! Pa—"_

_He stopped short._

_Little golden eyes widened to an impossible size, taking in the gore and blood that'd seeped into the ground outside their den. There were scorch marks everywhere—like something had burned away… had burned away…_

_He tensed, sensing something come up behind him, and glanced, glaring in fear over his shoulder—no, no. Only Papa. The full-grown black kitsune came up beside him, red oculars glancing at the young kit from the side of his vision. Even with his son in a more humanoid guise, his papa could tell. There was no disguising one's scent, no matter the form they wore. However, the older kitsune moved on, going about bidding farewell to the carcass as best he could._

_There were no words. His papa couldn't speak, and the young silver kit had been rendered speechless at the scene… words would do them no good, anyway. When the ebony kitsune at last glanced behind him, the two foxes shared a long, unbroken stare, each unwilling to back down—each unwilling to accept what that vixen's death, and the loss of the kit's brothers and sisters, now meant for them._

_Unexpectedly, the silver kit was the one who moved, first. Face set into a furious, angry glare as he turned, saffron orbs practically piercing the woodland he stepped into, his ki thrashing out and offering him a path through the greenery—he simply strode stonily away from the scene._

_Although his black papa never once took his eyes from his special, silver son, until he was out of sight…_

_The kit never looked back._

: : :

So began, the story of one of Makai's greatest legends…

~*~To Be Continued~*~


	7. Night

Disclaimer: I don't own Yuu Yuu Hakusho, or any of its characters. Those belong to Yoshihiro Togashi-sama, who made a lot more out of them than I ever could have. ^^;; I just do fanfiction for fun, and earn no monetary rewards for writing it. Reviews are, of course, worth as much as silver.

Original summary(for this chapter): Dawn—the memory an elixir to my waning soul. Feathers imbued with poison strike, as the illusions cede to dusk… Be I blighted?

Title: Second Try  
Chapter Seven: Night  
Word Count: 6,916

Anime: Yuu Yuu Hakusho  
Pairing: HieixKurama, ?xKurama  
Warning: Shounen ai, violence, language  
Author: Kita Kitsune  
Date: Sunday(sun-day!), September 6, 2009  
Miscellaneous Notes: This is a weird chapter. It's a cornucopia of everything! x.x Oya, oya.

[Ah, and I'm amused by the fact this fanfic's gotten almost a hundred more hits since I posted the last chapter. xD 534 hits ftw? I have no idea where all these readers are coming from. Seriously? It's strange. I know my writing can't be that great, to pull in random people from out in Internet-land… but, reviews would be nice. I'd like to know if anyone's OOC or if anyone thinks this fic sucks(especially after this chapter). (No, really, I would. I'm a masochist like that. D: Pander to my strange tendencies~!)]

Thank you, Vixen-of-Ice, for your two reviews. I much appreciated them. :3 I'm glad someone other than me is caught by this story(seriously, it's got a stranglehold on me and I'm having a hard time writing anything else! D:! ;.;~)~~ x3

On another note… I've got half of chapters eight and nine(yes, both of them) written, at least. xD Which is why I'm posting chapter seven up, now. Be happy you got an update! School's started, and it's pwning me(although the lack of TV is giving me more time, so that's nice. ;3). I had no time during the week, and I was trying to get a job, but… I think my little introvert brain would explode if I have to pitter around and socialize with people more than I do on a regular(weekday) basis. D: Hurrah for the Labor Day holiday(and the fact we actually get off on Labor Day).

Oh. Also. _Pet Shop of Horrors_ pwns the mangaverse(only four episodes in the animeverse, so it can't pwn that field quite as well). Right up there with YYH and Air Gear.

Go find the manga—it's available on Mangafox dot com.

Go now.

…or, after you read the chapter. Whatever works.

[_Count D is awesome!_]

That is all.

: : : : : : :

~Present Time~

"Kukukuku…" The eerie cackle resounded around the walls of the cavern. There was another there—face and form concealed by darkness, but they looked to be tall, broad-shouldered… perhaps bald. The figure shifted, and a flash of white revealed a wide grin, the hue shifting to grey as he tipped his head to better observe his companion.

"Your plan is excellent, you know. Reikai doesn't suspect a thing…" That cackle reached the air, again, and a bulky hand waved towards the entrance to the cave, indicating the snow-tipped trees framing a lovely snapshot of the sprawling wilderness that was a characteristic of this particular region of Japan. Another grin, again only a sliver of unkind white in the obscurity as the first speaker turned his face to observe the bright sunlight streaming down, dappling the snowy dirt with patches of illumination.

"It was smart to move. I know you wanted to do it in the city where we would be noticed, however~" Another cackle.

"It will be so much more enjoyable, not to be interrupted…~!"

: : :

_The small kit squatted at the edge of a tiny stream, staring solemnly into the clear water before him._

_**Mama is dead.**_

_That silvery tail swished behind him, nervously. He placed his palms on the ground, fingers digging into the dirt. The young kit fisted his hands in the supple soil. There hadn't been a trace of his brothers' or sisters' blood-scents all around, but…_

_**Everyone is dead.**_

_It was best to assume the worst, he decided, nodding firmly._

_He didn't need his family, anyway._

_The kit shoved away the memories that tried to intrude on his mind. No. He didn't need them. They were gone, and they didn't need him, either. He frowned, fiercely, scowling at his own reflection, golden eyes tracing the outlines of the human-esque face._

_**I will be someone different!**_

_**Someone who doesn't need anyone! **_

_**Someone who won't get hurt, ever!**_

_He snuffed out the part of him that wanted to curl up and cry and cry for days, and tucked it far away into the recesses of his mind. The small kitsune stood, tiny hands fisted at his sides with effort._

_**I have to stay like this. If I go back…**_

_**He shook his head, almost violently enough to give himself a concussion.**_

_**No going back! I am a youko, now! Not kitsune!**_

_Ears twitching, he heard the rustle of something far-off coming into his range of hearing. Saffron oculars narrowed, those same audits going flat on his head. He stayed for a moment longer, before turning and running into the safe embrace of the deeper, darker woods ahead of him._

: : :

~Two Weeks Earlier~

He had taken to visiting the kitsune, whenever he could. At night, when the shadows called to him, when the savage longing in his mind and heart could not be quelled, when his eyes were screaming for a glimpse, just a glimpse, of his fox…

He merely let it go, giving in, wandering the by-now familiar route to the redhead's home. The dark-haired reincarnate thought that, having once seen his fox, he would be able to handle a good amount of time away from Kurama's presence. But for—only, after that initial visit, a little over two months ago… something within him pulled and twisted and struggled to be free, anchoring him to the deadly routine of now allowing himself to linger at the kitsune's bedside, almost nightly. He warred with himself, even on those nights he did not venture out—especially on those nights, was the desire so strong he could not nearly concentrate enough to finish the second seal. His mind was quickly turning from him, all thoughts locked on the youko, on owning him, on seeing him, on drinking in his beauty while it was to last…

In this frenzied, distracted state, he could not summon the proper concentration to finish his seal. It was a severe miscalculation on his part—he had not thought he would have… missed… Kurama so much, for the kitsune to become such a wild detriment to his carefully-wrought plans. And yet, it was all for his redhead, anyway…

Adjusting his previous plans, he instead quickly took to making the third seal—he wished, he so achingly wished to reveal himself, and while it was a tad reckless… he had least harbored enough common sense in this state to know that his fox _would_ kill him on sight. That third seal—at the moment, it was more important than all the others, and time could not wait for him to begin sapping Kurama's energy with his impatience nearly simmering over to heat his reason.

Images. Nights and nights of images, all with the fox in various sleeping positions, but the most common was on his stomach, curled under the sheets as though in a den—and the onyx-haired demon began to notice the nightmares, as well. A name, muffled into the pillow, or the mornings when he would inadvertently stay far too long and the fox would begin to stir into wakefulness while he was still very visible on the branch outside his room, and those days he would retreat in haste, lest he be spotted otherwise…

_Kurama, Kurama._

Even on this night it was hard, too hard to focus his own reiki onto the brush as he painted the intricate kanji on strips of rice paper. With this changing state of affairs, he had begun to make smaller, lesser seals—like to the kind he'd meant to affix to his kitsune, with the second seal, but requiring not nearly so much power—that he secretively attached to the three humans he 'served'. They had felt the effects, naturally, but all were under the impression they'd merely caught a cold(it was the season for it, after all), oblivious to the fact it was their energy that was being directed down to him, giving the crow demon the boost he needed to finish the third seal.

_Soon._

He was almost jittery with anticipation, palms cold as fish scales—soon, soon. If Kurama could not kill him, he could afford to reveal himself a bit earlier than planned. There would be time, later, to affix the seal he'd meant to be the second one—there would be time to sap the kitsune's energy if he could not be killed without the fox forfeiting his life, in return.

_Soon. Kurama…_

: : :

_The silver fox cub glanced back and forth as he wandered, paying no mind to his lack of dress. He was still a kitsune, at heart, and kitsune did not think of such human necessities as clothes. Too soon, though, he began to shiver, hugging his bare arms around himself and wishing in vain that his hair was longer, so he could use it as a blanket… Soft vines draped around him from above, and the young youko blinked in surprise, the narrowed glare his eyes had taken since he left the gruesome sight(and his papa) many hours ago at last clearing. He even almost smiled, but caught himself in time—instead only allowing himself to pet the reaching vines, and sending a trickle of his meager youki into them, in thanks. They rustled in returned appreciation, and before he knew it they had scooped him up from the ground, cocooning him in a smooth cradle of broad leaves and began rocking him back and forth. He protested, at first, flailing a bit in surprise—but then a vine caressed the side of his cheek almost tenderly, and the kit's protests fell quiet. He still didn't smile, but gazed up at the plant with wide eyes, taking it all in._

_No. He didn't need a family._

_He murmured, happily turning in the living cocoon, curling up within it to get comfortable, as well as gain some much-needed rest._

_Plants were so much better than a family…_

: : :

~Two Months Earlier~

It had taken a good while to get up this far—even despite the money Genkai-shihan had given her, she dared not use it but for an emergency. As the air chilled, she found herself smiling a bit more with each step, feeling that warmth in her chest grow, directing her onward, over the tiny strait between the main islands of Japan and its northernmost isle. She walked without much rest—she was still a youkai, after all, and she had walked longer distances, before, in the Makai—there was no telling how long her brother would remain on this island, and so it was imperative she find him, soon.

He was so close… she could almost swear she saw smoke rising around the snow-tipped trees in the distance, indicative of a fire—foolishly, perhaps, her spirits rose at this and she ran towards the beacon, mind breathlessly calling his name. She'd never known it, nothing except 'imiko', and as that title held anything but good connotations, in her own thoughts she'd substituted ''niisan' or 'ani' for his name. When she found him, she would—she would ask his real name, to be sure, but until then…

_'niisan! Is that you? 'niisan! Please answer!_

"'niisan!?"

: : :

When she reached the source of the smoke, however… it was only from a tree. It looked as though it had been torn into, but… it was most definitely youkai-related. There were traces of youki all about, and she kneeled, running her fingers over the warm grooves torn into the bark. Flames… she couldn't tell the color, she didn't know if her brother wielded a special kind of flame or only controlled what they called in Makai 'ningen no hi', or simply 'human fire'… that orange-red concoction that shone so brilliantly with warmth, that no youki could ever hope to completely imitate.

But for… Hiei-san's fire. Perhaps he… perhaps he had met her brother, after all. She sat back, struck by the thought. She had never thought to ask him—Hiei-san hadn't been in Makai for a long time, so she hadn't thought to… Perhaps Hiei-san knew where he was! In the confusion and aftermath of the Dark Tournament, she'd had the sensation he was very close to her, but as the stadium had been about ready to collapse—she hadn't been able to summon much time to try to desperately sort him out from the throngs of demons that teemed to escape before they were buried alive in a combustion of rubble and fire.

The koorime kneeled, knees bent neatly together, hands quietly placed atop them as she stared quietly at the burnt grooves in the tree. After a while she closed her eyes, concentrating, trying to sort out the source of the youki… it was familiar, of course, but… it had taken her a few days to get to this very spot. The traces of energy wound about the abused trunk were old, too old to identify a demon, unless she was already intimately familiar with his ki. But, even if it had been Kazuma-san, or Hiei-san, or Kurama-san or Yuusuke-san's energy, it still might've been too old to identify. Along with her own inexperience… The ice maiden had only seen them fight during the Ankoku Buujutsukai, of course, and while they had battled hard, there—she'd not seen them summon their ki much after or before that.

As for this place… She'd gotten turned around a few times, but thanks to the animals inhabiting this forest, they'd helped her to at least head in the right direction. Opening her eyes, she exhaled a soft sigh, rising slowly to her feet. Perhaps… she had best keep moving. She still sensed him close, he must be in this forest, but here in—Hokkaido, had Genkai-shihan called it?—the forests were vast, much like their Makai counterparts…

Her chin a notch lower than it had been, a few hours earlier, the soft-spoken demoness rose to her feet, quietly thankful towards the elderly master for lending her these boots, as they crunched over ice, fallen twigs or pinecones with each step.

: : :

A still figure, high above in a tree off to the side, watched her go. He blended in as shadow to shadow, darker than night itself but for the white starburst thankfully obscured by an overhanging branch. A crimson gaze followed the figure even as she headed out of sight, then switched to an imperceptible tracking of her youki, as she ventured on.

_Yukina…_

Why was she here?

: : :

_It proved to be a sickeningly taunting end to a lifestyle they had both come to expect._

_It would also prove to be the first time in his life that he would take to wearing a filtering mask—to somehow rein in his power(his tutor had explained the nature of his 'Quest Class' talents to him, long ago), so it could grow inside of him, so he could hopefully at last defeat that damned hulking abomination that had enslaved the both of them(and marred Bui's military face with a disfiguring, strangely-shaped scar on his forehead). Bui disappeared—supposedly to train, but Toguro Ani seemed to like the crow's own company, and would hover around the onyx-haired demon, cackling and poking fun at his weaknesses… _

_There was some quality about the parasitic man he liked, but the crow could never quite temper his extreme annoyance of the man's voice and appearance(like a bedraggled hyena with too many teeth, and a high-pitched, seemingly incessant chortle and illusions of power—thinking he was on par with his savannah-neighbor, the 'lion'—who would have been Otouto in this comparison… oh, who was he deceiving, with that? Toguro would have been the 'elephant', here, untouchable and huge…) with that like enough to actively enjoy his company—most of the time, at any rate. So he was kept under Toguro Otouto's forceful fist, and Toguro Ani's jeering taunts, for the first time in his life experiencing terror and a feeling of utter helplessness. He learned to hide it, to let it simmer in his chest until it could be given a proper outlet that would not injure his pride with another embarrassing defeat by the towering younger sibling. _

_Bui would surface, now and again, only to challenge Toguro Otouto—but he never won._

_For the first time in years, the sable-haired youkai began to actually train, accommodating himself to the raised level of power when he took off the mask—it filtered the same particles in, through his mouth and nose, but robbed them of their explosive qualities, and did not allow them to escape once they had passed through. He was perfectly capable of living without it, but when he did not wear the mask his body would constantly lose and gain only a minute amount of explosive material. _

_It was akin to a sieve, of sorts. If he wore the mask, the material(having no escape route once inside) would become stored in his body—when he removed the mask the flood of uninhibited air would activate those stored materials once more, enabling him to create greater and greater explosions. An odd after-effect was that this storing-up-and-sudden-activation of explosive particles tended to turn his hair wavy and blond the moment he breathed in his first breath without the filter in place. It was a strange quirk to become used to… but he quickly learned to live with it, when he saw how much more destruction he could wreak when he wore the mask for longer and longer periods. _

_He took to wearing it for days, then months, then weeks, then years on end, to try and build up his power to defeat Toguro Otouto. Eventually, he began to see that it was useless, that the younger Toguro brother would always defeat him—and while it didn't quite break his spirit, it did spur him to bury his venomous anger at his situation(ever the spoiled child of a noble, perhaps), and put up a pleasant front to the huge demon, chatting with him amicably when the time called for it, but silently fuming and simmering just beneath the surface. There was little doubt Toguro Ani did not see past his congenial façade, but it seemed he saw fit to let the crow stew in his own helpless anger, and the only sign that the detestable man knew was a piercing comment now and then, and a constant cruel, amused glitter of his eyes when he remained silent._

_He continued his assassin's work when he could—when he wasn't called on, rather gleefully, by Toguro Ani to assist them in some matter or another. The crow didn't have the option to refuse—if he did, Toguro wouldn't even kill him, he'd beat him down to within an inch of his life, and then he would have to spend an even longer time in shamed recovery. Here is where the differences between himself and Bui came to light—for Bui took it silently, but never gave Toguro any indication that he wouldn't kill him if he could, and simply returned every few years to challenge him—only to be beaten to a pulp, again and again. The crow would watch from the sidelines, hands in his pockets, mask firmly in place although it had been a long time, indeed, since he had ever actively challenged Toguro. He was intelligent, there was no lie to that—he knew a fruitless battle when he saw one. All of Bui's attempts were futile from the start, but perhaps out of some lingering camaraderie from their assassin days, he would watch the man's struggles, giving him at least some quiet dignity in defeat by having a witness to his efforts. Where the ebony-haired crow had long ago given up over ever beating Toguro so long as the demon lived, he at least respected his former partner's strong spirit and persistence—foolish though it was—in continuing to try._

_Forty years after Bui and himself had lost to Toguro Otouto for the first time… they were forced into competing in the Ankoku Buujutsukai. For Toguro, it was his second time, and he had been growing more silent and curiously introspective as the date approached. As they sailed towards the island, the first words Toguro Otouto had spoken on the side of the ship gave at last some insight into his thoughts—and he had to think, that Bui or even Toguro Ani had no inkling as to the true momentous nature of this Tournament._

"_I have requested that Koenma's Reikai Tantei be the human guests at this year's Ankoku Buujutsukai." He recalled that scene—the bulky man dressed in his half-buttoned, long olive trenchcoat and dark pants, the usual sunglasses affixed over his eyes as he stared out over the rippling tides and crests of waves against the distant shores of Kubikukuri Island, just barely visible from where they were. The wind ruffled around them, a little, even as shrewd violet quietly locked on the taller demon between dark windswept tendrils of thin onyx, but Toguro remained silent for another few moments, hands in his pockets as he continued gazing out at the ocean—immoveable and eternal as stone, it seemed, in this one frozen instant._

"_Before the finals of this Tournament, a fifty-year disagreement shall come to an end."_

_Then, the huge youkai had turned and walked away, leaving the crow to be mildly perplexed—but it also gave his sharp mind something to work at, to figure out, to entertain himself with, as it was too likely(as a result of his intense training to beat Toguro) he would easily win all of his own matches—after all, just this past year he had finally climbed to low B-class—and while it would do nothing against Toguro Otouto's high B-class, it would most certainly be idiotically simple to do away with all of his opponents before the finals._

: : :

~Present Time~

He tapped his foot in the air, impatient with the babbling oni giving him various reasons as to why—well, it had to be something about the fact he kept passing through Reikai, every year without fail on the day of his death, to see his wife and son and check up on how they were doing…

Or, perhaps it had something to do with the fact that this time, he'd loitered—well, not really _loitered_, more like expected to be able to meet with Enma about an issue pertaining to his own son. Suuichi… he'd watched him, these past two months, and he hadn't liked what he'd seen. A suspicious figure was sneaking into the tree beside his son's room on a near-nightly basis, and while it seemed he hadn't done any harm… the boy's ki is what set him on edge.

He'd caught a few glimpses in the daytime, observing from the clouds, unseen and unfelt by all those living by being that safe distance removed from their world. The boy would never sense him, however—there was something extremely _off_ about the sense he got from the lad. He looked to be only a few years older than Suuichi, but… he knew quite well what regular boys' ki looked like, and this boy… his spirit reminded him of the ghosts he saw, up here. It made him worry. Apparently, more than he should have, because when he went to cross the barrier into the Heaven reserved for those who had died many, many years ago… his thoughts of worry weighed him down, and he was unable to float across.

He was concerned for Shiori, yes, because a stranger with unknown intent could easily target her to get at his son—but his overwhelming fatherly anxiety for Suuichi was winning against it. His son had done so much to keep Shiori safe… he ought to do something in return. Of course, Suuichi was still his son, it was not all about Shiori, and he'd watch out for the redhead as best he could(it was not a coincidence Suuichi scraped by his last battle in the Dark Tournament—he'd had a little help, for that one, to ensure he stayed alive and well enough to return home), but this… this situation called for more intervention than he could afford to give, being only a spirit. It was simple enough—with the heavy distress weighing on his mind about Suuichi's follower, he could not pass back into Heaven. Therefore, the resolution of this problem would both help ease his worries enough to crossover, this time, and put his son in a safer condition.

Which was why he had 'loitered' in Reikai, two months longer than he usually did, after visiting his own grave(and, indirectly, his family—as they never neglected to visit his grave on the day, every year since his death).

Which was why he had thus endeavored to score an appointment with Enma-daioh-sama.

…The two above reasons being _why_ he was currently being scolded by the purple oni across from him. Eventually he got tired of the rambling, had heard enough to know that 'Enma-daioh-sama was far too busy to have the time to meet with disgruntled spirits' and shouted, quite impatiently—

"Then take me to Koenma, you babbling buffoon! This involves one of his tantei, anyway—my son! It is important, and if you lack the ability to grasp that I'll barge into his office myself and breach all of your precious protocols!"

He was quite satisfied when the purple ogre went white as a sheet, shut his mouth and turned, hastily running in a seemingly random direction. Smugly, the ghost floated after his new guide, unperturbed.

You just had to yell at them a bit, and they listened.

He had learned that, at least, in his twelve years here.

: : :

_Thin limbs, all wiry and toned with the growing muscle of youth, splayed out expertly as he sparred with one of his dearest plants—laughing, he bounded out of the way as the broad leaves of the Ojigi-Mimosa plant reacted to his body heat and lunged for him with its petal-like mouths full of razor-sharp leaves. The kitsune grinned impishly, winding around the deadly shards and instead hugging the back of the moving stalk, babbling in what sounded like a pretend language to the plant. Surprisingly, the plant then rustled its leaves in what might have been a return of merriment, slowly descending towards the ground so the young youko could jump off. Once with his feet firmly on the ground, he patted the mimosa's curved 'head' sort of thing, bowing lightly toward it and to his surprise, it opened the pod beneath his hand, revealing the vulnerable lines of seeds sitting in neat serrated rows, nestled within a fragile network of tendrils. The kitsune hesitated, and only when the mimosa nudged at his hand did he venture forth to take one of the seeds, gazing at it curiously as he held it aloft between his thumb and forefinger._

_He'd always had an affinity for plants—perhaps part of it had to do with his kitsune upbringing—but to be offered this, a seed which was as good as a kit, to his dear friends… Curious, he sent a spurt of his youki into the seed, and let out a yelp as it germinated instantly, dropping the rapidly-growing plant and trying to step backwards, but not quickly enough as it tangled around his legs and lifted him clear off the ground—only about his height, as his youki was still nowhere near its potential, due to his young age—but he was rather relieved when the normally-aggressive mimosa didn't try to bite him or burn him, only tickled around his sides once it gathered its bearings, recognizing his ki as the same energy that had germinated it and gently set him back on the ground._

_Now, this mimosa was nowhere near as large as the parent mimosa that had given him the seed—the older one was easily hundreds of times the size of this small one, with roots and leaves and connections that spanned to the edges of the forest!—but then the youko laughed, again, finally understanding the reason for the given seed and pounced onto the larger plant, hugging it tightly around its stalk and again babbling in that strange(plant?) language, causing the upper leaves to rustle as the mimosa leaned over to pat his back with the end of one of its broad, purple leaves..._

: : :

~One Week Earlier~

Yet another night, and here he was. He had tried to ignore the urge, tonight, he really had… but when the image of Kurama, asleep all these many nights for the past two months, called to his mind, painting him in all those different, yet equally lovely sleeping poses, unconscious, peaceful, and unaware of his spectator reclining on the branch of one of the kitsune's beloved plants—a threat and yet not a threat, undetected as such by all the ivy, vines and roses that the fox had so cleverly woven around his home as deterrents against intruders, trusting their senses enough to protect him while he slept, all the while never thinking their protection had long ago been neutralized, when concerning this _certain_ visitor…

Really, it was all the redhead's fault, for being so exquisite.

Or at least that was one of the idle musings he allowed himself, fully aware that it was his own perhaps-unhealthy obsession with the former youko that caused his internal dilemma, and that it truly was of no transgression of the other's, that Kurama was so painfully beautiful…

He sighed, fingering the sleeping draught in his pocket. It was always there, at this time of night—he trusted it nowhere else, suspected it might be discovered if left carelessly about, and so kept the finely powdered concoction on him at all times. It was the same drug he used to keep his humans sleeping, pitifully unaware, through the night as he drained them of energy to complete his seals. That seal still wasn't quite finished, yet—and that was partly due to his heavy distraction, these past few months—but he couldn't quite resist watching his lovely kitsune sleep, anymore. The fox was too tempting…

He needed a better glimpse. There was no moon tonight, it was early in the cycle and thus shed no light on the world beneath it… so he quietly stalked along the branch without fear of an errant beam illuminating him—but still, the shadows that kept him undiscovered also hid the fox from his view, and wandering fingertips brushed out, accidently hitting smooth glass sooner and with more force than they would've intended, if he'd realized it was so close—

To his great surprise, the pane _moved_—inward, just a bit, on the hinge—with only the smallest of creaks to announce its shift in position. He instantly froze, anxiety choking his throat… while his spirit could not be sensed, that did not mean Kurama's experience and own attuned senses would not smell him, or hear him, if he was careless. He'd not meant, or expected, for the window to open. It was a surprise he tried not to dwell on—if he'd known the redhead slept with his window open… perhaps not only tonight, for that would be far too great a coincidence for him to believe… but… every night…

He cursed himself for not testing it, earlier. Two months' worth of chances, to lock that next seal onto the kitsune's breathtaking skin while he was at his most vulnerable… wasted. All that patience and discipline, unneeded. In his anger he did what would perhaps later be described as a foolish catalyst for the following events that would play out—he placed his palm to the cracked-open window, pressing it far enough for him to slip inside. Black boots landed neatly on polished wood, and he was immediately greeted with the intoxicating scent of…

…_Kurama._

There he was. The same as he slept, every night, only this time curled around his pillow as though around a lover, carmine tresses spilling messily everywhere, like blood, around his neck and shoulders, a few flirting with those beautiful, flawless cheeks, draped over the rosy skin like silk…

He took a quiet step forward.

Kurama. The same as every night, he was observing him… but now… now he had stepped into that dreamworld, into the same room—the room where the kitsune crafted his human façade, relaxed, tended to his plants without worry of being discovered, always expecting a knock at the door to warn him of his human mother's approach in time…

A few near-silent taps echoed over the wooden floor.

He couldn't tear his gaze away. Every moment, he was growing closer… those months ago, at the Ankoku Buujutsukai, seemed so far away, right now… that brief touch of ivory, perfect skin too far removed from recent memory, after having waited so long…

The reincarnated demon stood beside the kitsune's desk, obscuring what faint dim light penetrated the shadowy night and filtered into his beloved's room. Only a meter… only a meter more, and he would be touching the fox. His blood heated. To touch the fox… it was the luxury he had not allowed himself, during the Tournament—he knew what happened to those he touched. It was a burned-in mechanism. He would destroy Kurama, if he touched him… it was his greatest desire as well as his greatest fear.

To kill Kurama… he would keep him, as he couldn't, before. To have the kitsune's life become his, to keep… he trembled to think of the high that would greet him in the aftermath of the murder. As though he could… the redhead could… possibly—be the one individual who would top the high after his own mother's death. It was what he had sought for, all these centuries… and yet…

To kill Kurama… the kitsune would be gone from his sight, for an indefinite period of time. Even unto death, even if he were to make it into Reikai, to track down the fox's soul—there was no guarantee the youko would be waiting for him, there. If he killed Kurama… the spirit would run, clever as it was, and find another host, and begin again. Throughout the three worlds—Makai, Ningenkai, Reikai—if he killed Kurama, now, it was possible he would lose him, never find him again. The crafty youko had already escaped death, once…

Torn, he moved with just a hint less care, and bumped the leg of the chair, tearing the silence with a bone-shattering 'creak'. He froze, instantly terrified that he'd given himself away, violet retreating behind the dark brown hues of his human form. His fears were confirmed when that reposed body on the bed tensed, fingers curling into the pillow as a nearly-indiscernible glint of green opened from behind slightly mussed scarlet bangs.

That gaze was suspicious, immediately on guard, the kitsune's entire body tense as he tried to feign sleep for a few moments more, observing all he could about the intruder…

: : :

He hadn't sensed anything.

His plants hadn't sensed anything, or they surely would have warned him…

There was a dark figure in the room before him. By the sound he'd heard, they were just by his desk. Close. Too close for comfort, yet far away enough that he could call to the fern at his bedside and have them incapacitated easily before they could do any harm. It warred with his senses. He knew someone was there. The moment he'd awakened to that sound, he'd known someone was there.

But, his senses told him there was no ki. Not human reiki, not demonic youki. Not holy ki. Nothing.

Every living being had ki. He could sense the squirrels nesting in the tree outside, could feel his mother sleeping in her room down the hall, could almost reach out and touch the tree, roses and ivy that made up his outer perimeter, with his own ki. The fern would react seamlessly to any command he gave it, in less than a moment—and its life force beat quietly on the edge of his subconscious. He knew it was there without having to look.

But this…

Confused by his senses, he slowly creaked his eyes open, gaze no doubt steely and full of taut suspicion.

What greeted his sight was unexpected, and the kitsune felt his eyes grow wide as the impossibility of the situation fell upon him. The window was open… that alone jarred too many memories, causing his mind to spin at the possibility. The other could easily be suppressing his ki, so he couldn't feel him. It was dark, he couldn't see his face, he wasn't quite close enough to smell, but…

The being before him couldn't be human—

"H… Hiei?"

: : :

The oculars across from him were too wide and innocent, too lit with blossoming hope as they took him in—clearly, Kurama couldn't see him well, in the darkness. Blessing it once more, he slowly moved forward, catching a glint of light off of his cautiously-brown-colored eyes, narrowed as they were, trying to determine just how far… he heard another gasp, and was quite unprepared when a body suddenly was pressed against him and he couldn't help a grunt as he bore the weight of them both to the polished floor, back against the cool wood and form heating pleasantly as warm arms wrapped around his own waist, and he fought the urge to flip Kurama onto his back and ravage him as that half-obscured jade stare locked with his own, scarcely a few bare centimeters away… it was still too wide, for a mere moment, and then it thinned, and he found his own long fingers clinging to the kitsune's pajama top as the redhead suddenly moved to violently push himself off of the intruder—ah, Kurama must have registered the smell, at last, must have finally come to realize that the form he'd tackled was not the short, wiry, birdlike one of his former team mate and lover…

"Y-You're not—! Who are you!" The whisper held all the violence the former youko's actions could not, lest he risk waking the other human in the house. It was low and cutting, chips of emerald ice furiously burning into his own face, his soul. Out of nervousness he'd retreated behind the original features of his human host—his eyes were rounder, features less fine, and more fitting to a human of his host's age as opposed to the demon he was. Best to hide himself, for now… it was too foolish of him to believe Kurama would not sense him entering his room, it was his mistake, he could see it now—

But would the error really be enough to put all his careful planning to waste?

Thin, spidery digits yet clutching a handful of the fabric of the fox's long-sleeved silken top in one hand, he pushed himself up, watching as Kurama took the slackened pull as a chance to move yet further away.

"I…" His voice was surprisingly unsure, he hadn't meant it to come out that way, but—he was in such a precarious position, the redhead was easily within arm's reach, the kitsune could kill him if he had such an urge to…

: : :

The boy before him was clearly human. It showed in his face, his eyes—a common brown, and for a moment he couldn't believe he'd mistaken them for the Jaganshi's dark red. The youth on the other's features could be the only thing that'd led him to accidentally identify him as his former lover… that, and too many nights since he'd last seen the fire youkai, too many nights pining and wondering and dreaming over seeing him again—and then to wake in the night, with the window pushed open just as Hiei'd always enter, to find a dark form silent and hesitant in the obscurity of midnight(not attacking him, or threatening him to silence as a Ningenkai burgler or other sort of robber might)…

It had been his mistake. The dark-haired boy across from him was clearly human, that gaze was too obviously desperate—he could see the desperation, and while could not determine the source of it… he began to relax, despite himself. The human clearly meant him no harm… perhaps it was merely a boy, running from someone, and he'd jumped in the first open window he could find, to hide.

_I should really stop expecting Hiei to come here._ He told himself this, mind's voice firm.

_This would have never happened, if I had… closed that final door._

By leaving the window open… even after all this time, nearly six months since the Jaganshi had left… this moment, now, revealed to him just how deeply Hiei had scarred him. Just how deeply… the kitsune was still bound to him… merely by keeping that same breathlessly _stupid_ hope alive, even after so long.

Pulling himself from his thoughts, he took a slow breath—returning his attention to the boy, smiling mildly and reigning in his initial anger as he at last registered the half-begging, pale fingers clutching onto the fabric of his shirt, just above the elbow.

: : :

"…What are you doing here?" That tone was considerably calmer than it'd been, before, and the reincarnated demon started, staring forward at the fox as though he'd never seen him quite properly. What was… ? What was his kitsune thinking of? His mind worked, showing him—no, no, Kurama didn't suspect it was him. Obviously. But why would… why would he… be all right with someone barging into his room, like that? Surely the fox would've killed anyone who dared…

Suddenly acutely aware of his almost-desperate grip on the fox, he let go, wrenching himself back and forcing himself to keep his sudden hard breathing to himself—he hadn't realized he'd been holding it. Wide eyes watched the redhead, watched as the smallest of smiles echoed forth on that face—watched as the kitsune slowly began to approach him, stretching a hand, fingers reaching towards his arm.

"It's all right, now—I'm not going to hurt you. Did something happen? Are you running from someone?" That voice was all Minamino Suuichi, surely—it reeked of warmth and help and easy solutions to any problem. It make him quake, inside. That tone couldn't ever be meant for him. Kurama offering him his help? The mere notion was ludicrous! As though he'd ever need the kitsune's help, ever need his pity—he would kill him. He would kill Kurama, given the chance, and to have the youko so blindly offer help without even knowing who lay behind the human mask he saw…

…He had to leave. Lest he give himself away, run out of the luck he'd apparently accumulated from nowhere… he had to leave. Now.

Not giving an answer, the reincarnated demon turned, palms pushing himself from the polished wood of the floor in a graceful, quick movement as black boots swept cleanly over the same surface an instant later, propelling himself out the window and into the darkness, blending into the inky night and disappearing without another sound to betray him.

~*~To Be Continued~*~


	8. Destiny

Disclaimer: I don't own Yuu Yuu Hakusho, or any of its characters. Those belong to Yoshihiro Togashi-sama, who made a lot more out of them than I ever could have. ^^;; I just do fanfiction for fun, and earn no monetary rewards for writing it. Reviews are, of course, worth as much as silver.

With this chapter, this fic is over 50,000 words(50,897 words, to be exact)! Banzai! x3

[Pay no attention to Fanfic dot Net's incorrect tally. _My _word count is from the actual content of the chapters, and_ doesn't_ include my ramblings before them(I must ramble quite a lot, for there to be roughly a 6,626-word difference in the tallies, at this point... x.x ! x///x ). ;3]

Title: Second Try  
Chapter Eight: Destiny  
Word Count: 7,814

Anime: Yuu Yuu Hakusho  
Pairing: HieixKurama, ?xKurama  
Warning: Angst, violence, language, shounen ai, mention of insanity/suicide, shoujo ai

Author: Kita Kitsune  
Date: Monday(moon-day!), September 7, 2009

Miscellaneous Notes: Indeed, I finished this chapter a day after posting the last one. xD! Hurrah, hurrah. But, yes… this is a bit longer than some of the previous chapters have been, so I hope you guys enjoy it. :3 I'll post this one when I have the next one fully written, so give it some time(this fic is branching off into places I never thought it'd go, just to warn you all. Oo;;;)~ …Ehe. x.x;;;

More Notes(Sunday, September 20, 2009): Heh, heh. You all hate me for waiting so long to post this chapter, right? When it's been written for so long(well, thing is, I'm still only halfway done with chapter nine, so…)? …Anyway. School in general occupying me, got laryngitis, which led to the doctor commanding me on Thursday to rest my voice(a.k.a. don't speak, whisper, cough, or clear throat), using ASL-fingerspelling/writing notes for communication, for the past few days, etcetera, etcetera(although by now it's much better).

On another note… I love the last Yukina scene, in this chapter(Aha! Chapter nine is finished~! Now I can post this chapter, hurrah. :3). I worked so hard on it. That, and the last Karasu/Kurama scene. x3

Shushing up before I ramble too much and bore you all, and ruin something! ._.;;; x.o;;~

Also(I say this while referring to both of those aforementioned scenes that I just _loved_ writing)! Let me know if people are awfully, horribly, terrifyingly OOC(I've got a sneaking suspicion about my Karasu… although I did put a random bit of history in here—between the Karasu backstory and the Youko backstory, you'd think I'd had enough of them, but nooo, I had to branch into another character… x.o;;;)! Please? ;.;

Even More Notes(Tuesday, October 6, 2009): Thank you to various crimes(Nice to see you, again~!) and Vixen-of-Ice(Thanks so, so much for commenting as often as you do. Much is the loves!) for your reviews. :3 You have no idea how much comments on my stories(especially this one!) brighten up my mood after a hard day of schooling. x.o;;

Reviews are an idle hope, perhaps, but then I always was rather dim in the 'hopeless' area…

: : : : : : :

_As time went on, the little kit grew. He wandered all around the deeper, darker parts of the forest, making friends with the plants, taking the time to listen and doing his best to talk to them—even if they lacked the ability to actually verbally respond to him, he knew they understood. The youko was so ecstatic that he'd found a way to talk to his beloved plants! He told them this again and again, wandering around the woods, for all the world perfectly happy and oblivious to what was happening in the Makai outside his forest home._

_The only time he bothered about the outside world, at all, was when trespassers entered into his domain. Too often they were stupid, blunt demons that wandered in with the intent to spend the night. Now, while this bothered him—their stinky, ugly feet stepping on** his** moss, and crushing **his** seedlings with their big hunking boots!—, what really set him off was when they would go to make something strange. He'd only seen it, once—and once was enough to tell he didn't want anything more to do with it._

_A distress call from some of the maples living on the edge of the forest had urged him to the scene, and he'd rushed to their aid—upon noticing it was a pair of youkai, he crouched in the branches overhead, youki easily covered by the greenery around him(that was already infused with it, from his many years of life here), taking the time to quietly observe the strangers. One of them lugged a bundle of healthy-looking branches—as good as limbs, to the tree who was now bereft of them!—and he fought down his anger at the realization that these trespassers had idared/i to cut up one of his friends—, clenching his teeth and fisting his hands… but he about lost it when one of them pulled out something that caused the wood to **glow** yellow, and it would have been pretty but for the acrid smell wafting up from the dead branches, the smell of death and burning and shadowy tufts of air that tried to choke the forest with its offending odor._

_Unable to take any more, he jumped down, arms crossed over his chest._

: : :

~Three Weeks Earlier~

It was mind-numbingly dull, up here. The thrill of torturing his human host had worn off too soon, and it was with a heavy sigh that the demon-in-human's-clothing stretched out his fingers, admiring the thin, gangly tendrils before slipping them back to a more 'normal' appearance.

His brother was such a fool. Imagine—betraying him, like that, when he only wanted to help the ungrateful bastard defeat that Urameshi brat! He couldn't understand his brother insulting him in such a manner—

_Move. You're in the way._

What right did that little scumbag think he had! He'd sold his soul right along with his sibling, and while it seemed all the enjoyment of their demonic reincarnation was left to him… Now, now! He tutted to himself, shaking a finger and swirling it up into the trees over head, wrapping the spindly, seemingly formless flesh around a branch and propelling himself up, cackling happily at the thoughts running through his mind.

Now, now~! He no longer lived in his brother's shadow, and that treasonous wretch had gotten the death he so deserved. But for now… his new friends were quite amusing, especially the ringleader, but it was exceedingly annoying that they had to remain in such secrecy—he needed little things to torture, and as the 'special' humans that made up most of their group were off-limits, due to Angel's command…

He found himself simmering angrily, as he was now. Beady eyes caught sight of a little bird's nest and he grinned, teeth sharpened unnaturally off to salient points, gnashing them a moment before propelling himself towards the unsuspecting family with a gleeful laugh.

It was a shame the tall, darkly sadistic youkai had died! That crow demon would have gotten quite a kick out of Angel and Keeper's respective motives, perhaps even helped him sow seeds of distrust in their minds. It would have been so fun to see their relationship twist and warp, to shake Keeper's seemingly unfathomable trust in Angel, or to imply that Keeper really didn't love Angel, as Angel thought he did…~

: : :

Still—nothing.

It had been a full week since she'd last sensed Hiei-san's presence, and the method of his departure worried her, greatly. No… the ice maiden did not quite know what to make of her recent revelation, and the fire youkai had disappeared too quickly for her to properly gauge her own reaction, but…

Was it possible? Was it possible that her realization had been correct, and for all this time…

Yukina felt conflicting, identical swells of gratitude and anger settle in her heart.

Hiei-san… if he had known where her brother was, all this time… why had he not told her? What could be his reasons for lying to her in such a manner? Yet, in the same breath… she could not find it in herself to be too terribly full of rage at the thought. Yes, he had kept the knowledge a secret(and, she suspected, at least a few of her friends likely knew more about this state of affairs than they had disclosed)… but Hiei-san wasn't a bad person. He was no worse than any other demon, really—killing and burglary were common crimes in Makai, no worse than swatting a fly or shoplifting were in Ningenkai.

Of course, in light of at last learning the whereabouts of her brother, these little lies did not seem so horrible… after all, Rui-san had lied, had broken her promise to Hina-okaasan the day her brother was tossed from Hyouga's snowy peaks.

_I promise you, Hina… I will do everything in my power to ensure your children are safe_.

Rui-san had pledged that, had reassured Hina-okaasan when Hina-okaasan had confessed, fallen into her partner's arms, sobbing and rueful of that one night of sharp love that sealed her fate. If Hina-okaasan had never… if she had never ventured out into that dark blizzard to admire its fierce beauty, that one night, if she had never found the near-frozen demon lying piled under drifts of snow—if she had never taken him to a nearby cave, and used her healing powers to bring him back to consciousness…

If he had never used that restored youki to light a fire, if he had never seen her face and fallen in love with her at first sight…

If she had only… if Hina-okaasan had only left him in that cave, safe and warm, and let him wait out the end of the storm, alone…

If she had only… hardened her heart as all the rest of the koorime did, against any Outsiders…

Yukina and her brother would have never been born.

Hina-okaasan would not have given birth to twins, one male, and would have never breached the expected monogamy of their kind. She would have lived on, for many years, with Rui-san—as was traditional and 'good'—and had a baby girl perhaps very much like herself, but not quite Yukina. Circumstances changed personalities only slightly, even if Yukina's appearance and this unborn girl-child's appearance would have been nearly the same—but for the garnet eyes she and her brother shared. Rui-san had said, when she told Yukina all of this…

_Your brother… we could only see his eyes, and the smallest tuft of black hair, beneath the wards. The pupils were small, distrustful, almost drowning in the wide white depths they settled in… There is no doubt in my mind that that boy understood everything that was being said, around him. Those tiny eyes, so unlike your own and yet so identical in hue…_

_Those small pinpricks of color, like drops of scarlet staring out from his pale face…_

_Although of the same shade, they were yet so different from your own, Yukina._

It had broken Hina-okaasan when Rui-san had been the one to toss her brother over the edge. The Elders believed they had been merciful, in this—rather Rui-san, Hina-okaasan's life partner, than anyone else. Rui-san had every right to toss the Forbidden Child—Yukina's own brother, Hina-okaasan's baby boy—off of their floating paradise. His presence spoke of a sin too deep to ever cleanse. As the partner that had been betrayed, in Hina-okaasan's laying with a male…

Rui-san was the only koorime on Hyouga who had the right to remedy her partner's mistake.

If only the Elders had not continued to punish Hina-okaasan, even after that day, treating her as a social pariah every time she ventured outdoors. And Hina-okaasan's guilt, not only for her sin, but for dooming her son to death at so young an age—and not only that, but the trauma of being so betrayed by her own lover in such a way, even though Hina-okaasan knew it was tradition, and knew that it was her own fault that she was suffering…

It was too much for her.

As good as exiled by the society she had been born and raised into…

Lain with a male, the greatest of taboos…

Betrayed her life partner with that one reckless night of passion…

Then, betrayed in return, as her partner—the true, steady, supporting love of her life—

Doomed her son—the only son to be born to a koorime, in the history of Hyouga…

In the end it was all her fault, for she iknew/i the traditions, iknew/i the laws that would have to be strictly implemented to deal with her transgression—perhaps she had thought the Elders would be merciful. Her mistake in assuming the compassion of her people overrode their laws had cost her son, an innocent babe only guilty of birth, his very life…

It was all too much for Hina-okaasan to be able to reconcile with herself. The price the Elders made her pay was heavy, as amidst all this… she slowly began to lose her grip on reality. The guilt over her twin brother's death—no matter how many times Rui-san would assure Hina-okaasan that the boy was alive, and would return one day to seek vengeance—ate away at her, distorting her mind. Yukina remembered snippets of memories, or recalled them by way of Rui-san telling her stories of her mother as she grew older.

Hina-okaasan holding a tightly-wrapped bundle of cloths—too-often around an ice sculpture of a baby, her mother had been so talented in creating ice sculptures—cradling it and smiling at it, whispering words of love to the inanimate object with features crafted to look as close to the son she had lost as she could remember. Yukina remembered standing in the doorway, watching her mother as she went about caring for the infant, obsessing over it, letting it take over her life…

She recalled stepping forward, in eternally frozen memory, voice a soft, faint whisper in the icy room as tiny fingers tugged at her mother's kimono—

"Hina-mama?" Those sapphire eyes had locked on her own, then, and Hina-okaasan had stared at her for a long moment before she began to laugh, too softly, kneeling down to offer the little koorime girl a glimpse of what remained in the swaddling cloths—with the temperature, the ice never melted, but her constant figiting with the object's face often wore it down so it only vaguely resembled a countenance.

_Here, here, see, Yuki-chan? This is your older brother. He doesn't grow as fast as you, but he has your eyes…_ She remembered a cold, tender hand cupping her face as a blank smile crossed her mother's visage, stringy strands of sky blue hair waving across her cheeks and forehead, making her expression appear unkempt and almost deranged.

_Such pretty eyes, Yuki-chan. Red, red. Blood-red rivulets running down his cheeks… he's crying, oh no!_ To this she would panic, run away to the back room with her precious bundle of ice and the little koorime would blink, a hand still outstretched for her mother's robe...

Tears stung at the corners of her eyes, and she jumped a little when the heel of a hand placed itself gently between her shoulder blades. Looking up—the strong, sad, familiar face framed by hair that almost looked to be made of icicles gazed down at her, kindly.

"Rui-mama!" She sobbed, latching onto the full-grown koorime's kimono, burrowing her face into the material and clutching there for all she could. Rui-san would pet her hair, gently smooth it out, and allow her to cry—it was too cold, and for that her tears could not even soak the fabric. Instead, the hiruiseki clattered down, disappearing into the ice-layered floor beneath them. After a few minutes, she would hear a soft, gentle tone break through her sniffles—

_Yukina-chan… why don't you go out to the forest and play? _

_I need to speak with Hina-mama…_

: : :

Yukina had still been very young when it happened.

She came home, one day, only to be greeted with Rui-mama clutching a rag in her shaking hands, a puddle of hiruiseki gathered around her. The sound of the door closing caused the koorime to look up, an attempted smile faltering on her face and she rose, heading towards the only other occupant of the room and spreading her arms—only to fall to her knees and gather the little girl up, holding her tight against her chest as she took in a shaky sigh, gently rubbing the young koorime's hair with a palm, as though to reassure herself that she was still there.

"Rui-mama… ?"

_Yukina-chan… you should call me Rui-san, from now on. _

_I have failed your mother. _

…_I… I have failed **you**. _

_Hina-mama… your mother is…_

The koorime had thrown herself off the very cliff that Yukina's older brother had been tossed from, years before.

At that age, the young koorime could not imagine the agony and guilt playing with Rui-san's mind.

But, somehow… Rui-san was stronger, than Hina-okaasan had been.

There was no body at the nearly-vacant funeral, as no one saw the use in bothering to search amidst the filth-ridden Makai wasteland below for a disgraced 'former' member of their sisterhood. Rui-san raised Yukina alone—as was the custom, for life partners would never take another lover if their partner died—and erected a grave for the dead koorime who had birthed a forbidden son.

However, to Yukina, that simple gesture of a memorial meant so much. She could talk to Hina-okaasan more, now, than when her mother had been alive—alive, yes, but so obsessed with the son she had lost, that she never once glanced at her own daughter, the boy's very twin, without seeing her brother's infant stare mirrored in her eyes.

A sound jarred the forest and she jumped in surprise, coming back from the old memories—hands curling atop her own chest in subconscious defense as wide red surveyed her surroundings. It had sounded as though… a bird was crying out in pain. The koorime closed her eyes, trying to focus on the source of the noise—oh, just to the left. Not too far away, either…

Turning, those borrowed brown boots quietly padded over the forest's undergrowth, leading her in the direction of the distressed fowl. If she could help them, she would. It would not do to let such innocent little creatures suffer, and simply pass them by.

After all, if she did—who's to say she wasn't the same as those Elders who had taken it upon themselves to decide her brother's fate?

: : :

_He hadn't had so much experience with lower-class demons, in years… imagine his amusement when he realized the pathetic hordes of youkai could not even bsee/b his explosives, much less avoid them. He hadn't used his beloved bombs to kill in so long… and it gave him a mystical, dangerous quality, he knew, to seem to be able to destroy his enemies with 'invisible' tools._

_However._

_His first glimpse, down in the ring… Toguro Otouto had vocally indicated the Urameshi boy, who was fighting(by some miracle, the committee had approved it) on the literal edge of a knife, it seemed—punching the taller and bulkier demon with a periwinkle mohawk and braid across from the brunet. Such manifestations of 'manliness' were a bit blasé, in his opinion… but there was a splash of cardinal down there that wasn't blood, and as his eyes settled upon the bearer of the color—his heart quaked. It must have shown, even if only in the faintest glimmering of those amethyst_ _optics, but…_

_That first time he saw Kurama, even from the far-removed vantage point of the human owners' VIP box, even before knowing his name, even before realizing precisely how attached that short, cute, efficient little killing machine of a fire youkai was, to him—_

_He wanted to know more._

_The slender, dark demon silently rued the fact that he had missed the redheaded boy's first match—and he vowed to himself, then, never to miss another…_

: : :

_"And here he is—Toguro Team's Toguro! His opponents will be the Makaikyousenshi Team!"_

_Hidden in the shadows, he could feel rivulets of his power snake along his digits, making them twitch at the possibilities. His gaze was locked on the beautiful—oh, so beautiful, and so bold—sanguine locks of his newfound obsession, wanting to reach out and touch, and feel…_

_He restrained himself, with not a small amount of difficulty. The kitsune's attention was focused on Toguro Otouto, in the ring against the five fighters of the opposite team—he cared not, he had seen enough of Toguro's power to know that he would win… but the chance to watch the fox was a painful bliss, in and of itself. He had recognized the signs—it was quite likely he was smitten by the redheaded youko, and so to make things interesting he had instigated a war with his self-control. Some might call it masochistic… but it merely made things that much more poignant, to, for the first time in centuries, not allow himself to indulge in his urges the very moment he beheld something exceptional…_

_He would not allow himself to touch Kurama. The thought alone gave him a thrilled jolt of suffering want. He would never give into caressing that warm skin—it held such a flush of good health, a stark contrast to his own pale countenance. Where he was skeletons and bones and everything dark, the bright fox was roses and green growing things and all the light they sought to supplement themselves with, to live long, flush lives…_

_The kitsune was just below him, completely taken in by Otouto's exaggerated show of strength. He himself was crouched, hidden, perched upside-down in the shadows of the overhang above him. The white martial arts outfit the redhead wore perfectly coincided with their differences… whites and blues, golds and purples in contrast to his own blacks and reds. It made him ache, it made him want to tangle hands in that thick mass of hair, comb his slim digits through it, so that perhaps some of the vibrancy would instill itself into his own hands, his body, forever. It made him want to visit and revisit that modestly neck-to-toe-covered body, wrench the kitsune's clothes into burning oblivion and caress everything he could both see and not see, in this moment…_

_He shuddered, feeling a low, creeping command from Toguro Ani distract from his thoughts. Apparently, the man wanted to make a public, albeit understated, appearance at the match—with his underling clearly visible behind him, and Bui was nowhere to be found. The dark youkai's observation was thus cut short, and he dismissed the pang of regret as another wonderful after-effect of not being able to quite give into his desires, as he melted back into the darkness, withdrawing soundlessly but for the softest rustle of shadowy wind. The kitsune was… oh-so-enchanting, he knew if he began to touch, he would never stop. If he began to touch, so early on—the fox would be dead long before the finals. And so it was with deliciously conflicting thoughts that he joined Ani(who was just in the shadows, beside the lit entrance on the other side of the stadium) with a last, wistful thought towards his fox, sharp crow's eyes locked on the kitsune's expression from across the arena…_

_Would Kurama ever watch him—so nervously apprehensive—as he watched Toguro, now… ?_

: : :

~Present Time~

Botan was beginning to get annoyed at him, he could tell. Perhaps it had to do with the various small things he found going wrong—his stamp going missing, only to find it under his chair, the light bulb burning out in his room, his remote misplaced… He let loose a low sigh around his pacifier, long legs of his adult form leading him around the halls. The godling glanced at the clipboard in his hand—

_Kanisawa. Kanisawa Meirin._ Now, where had he heard that name before? It had nothing to do with the numerous appeals Botan had sent in to him, he was sure… No, no. He'd heard it elsewhere. However, he saw hundreds, no,_ thousands_ of names each day.

—Which made it all the odder that he would recall such a name, in its entirety. Frowning, he stopped right in the middle of the hall, sucking furiously on the fukuman in his mouth, intent on finding an answer…

"Koenma-sama!" A bright voice broke him out of the intensity of his thoughts, and he blinked, staring before him at the blue-haired ferry girl who looked just as shocked to see him as he was her. Then, she smiled, canting her head in a cute gesture and fluttering her wings—_sleeves!_—into the air.

"Are you at last going to see Meirin-chan, perhaps~?" That cheery demeanor didn't fool him—he could tell he'd be on the receiving end of quite a shouting match if he agreed to anything hinting at the contrary. He gulped, smiling in return, slipping his golden brown eyes to happy crescent shapes in an attempt to disarm her.

"A-Ah, yes, actually, Botan… I believe I've gotten a bit lost, though." His tone sounded nervous even to himself, as those fuschia depths narrowed warningly on him. "Would you… care to show me the way?"

"Oh, of course, Koemna-sama!" The dark presence was gone, and he sighed in relief as she dragged him along by his arm, hopefully in the direction of the girl's room. Well, that was one disaster avoided.

Now, if only he could convince the girl to be at peace with her fate, and crossover…

: : :

_To say they were surprised would be an understatement. Here they were, having had the luck to wander into one of Makai's great forests on their journey(they'd even gotten new horses, at the famous town, just a ways down the road!)—such a place had an ample supply of firewood, after all—and no sooner had they lit a fire, and were just about to relax, when this __**imp**__ of a youko jumped down from above, naked as the day he was born, silvery hair rushing over his shoulders with a stance as though he owned the place, arms crossed and folded angrily, and a golden fire lit in his eyes._

_He shouted something neither of them understood, and they glanced at each other before breaking into boisterous laughter, rolling over onto their sides and clutching them. This apparently did not amuse the wild youko, for his equally-silvery tail swished back and forth in what could have only been annoyance, those saffron depths narrowing further as they tried to speak—not that he would understand them, this wild child who looked as though he'd clearly been nowhere near civilization in his entire life._

_"O-oh, kid, you scared us, there!" One of them grinned, sitting up and leering at the youthful nude body presented before him. He licked his lips, and raised a hand, beckoning the fox closer. The youko was watching them studiously, now, gaze thinning another notch as the sitting one spoke, waving him over, again. _

"_C-C'mere, kid… let's get a look at yeh—mebbe we can get you some clothes, and some hot food… yea, w'u'd' yeh like some hot food~?" He cooed, trying to make friends with the boy, while he could see his partner reach for the flogging tool tucked in the back of his belt—youko in this color were rare, and while what separated the fox-formed kitsune from their more humanoid youko brethren was not always clear… these two demons knew enough, that silver hair, tail and ears meant a silver coat. And there wasn't a Makai lady around who wouldn't sell half her soul for a silver-fox pelt…_

_This boy's skin could make them very rich, once they killed him and he returned to his animal form in death, with all that beautifully satin-soft fur._

: : :

~Three Days Earlier~

These months in the Ningenkai had made him soft, that much was apparent. To run from Kurama! To flee from his kitsune, as though a frightened doe? It was unacceptable! Sharp lines angled over his grim face, as he bent over the ward before him. It had to be done. Tonight, and no later. It was a risky gamble that the redhead would not be on-guard for him outside his window, now… but it was his own fault, and he had to live with it. It was for his own error, and besides…

Besides…

These few nights being unable to visit his youko, for prudence's sake, were fast driving him mad. The fox haunted his every thought, waking or no—Kurama swam in his blood, now. The youkai wasn't quite sure what led him to feel as this… in all his long years of life in Makai, no one lover had ensnared him, completely captivated him as the kitsune had, so effortlessly, with but a single glance.

No lover—who had yet to even realize the depth of his devotion. Who had yet to realize the passionate intensity of which he used to dote upon them. The single-minded determination—to survive death, only to see his fox, claim him, mark him as his… to painstakingly craft the situation to his liking, yet even now, with a flick of his wrist, that fetching thief could steal all his plans, turn them to dust on a whim…

Thin digits shook, but he steeled them with a firm shove of ki through fingertips, imbuing the thin slice of rice paper with borrowed reiki from the humans asleep, upstairs.

There could be no more mistakes.

: : :

The tree was silent as he approached. That was good—he felt no whisperings of communication trace through the air, innocent as pollen to the untrained eye… the ivy and roses were silent, as well. As best he could discern, at any rate—he did not speak plant, had no interest in horticulture… only the faintest echoes of ki rippling towards the kitsune's home would give him enough warning to flee. However, there was nothing…

Deeming himself safe, the reincarnated crow coiled his legs beneath him, silently springing up towards the branch that led to his beloved's window.

Imagine his surprise, when that same branch lashed out and wrapped around his waist!

Gasping in near-soundless shock, he moved slender digits to push the tough bark from him—the shift had been silent. He hadn't heard it coming… but the footsteps he did hear stunted his movements, abruptly-brown oculars snapping towards the source and he was absently glad he had pocketed the ward, so it did not now flutter down to rest at the youko's feet.

Glimmering in the lack of light, nonetheless piercing jade rose up from the ground to meet him, scanning over his captured form. The kitsune was in the same style of silken bed-clothing from before, arms crossed casually over his front(oh, he was too well reminded of the youko's stance, during their fight, those many months ago)—but his feet were clad in those same slipper-shoes he'd worn at the Tournament. Notably—they were inot/i the house slippers that the Japanese so often took to wearing in their homes, to keep them moderately more clean than their Western counterparts.

He cursed to himself, feeling the tendrils of fear snake around his legs much as a few of the thinner branches were.

Kurama had been waiting for him.

Cool green watched him fight to escape, until he at last realized it was fruitless, and instead went to playing his part—an exhausted human admirer, perhaps(his mind raced to come up with a good excuse for his actions), come to play a moonlight vigil by his beloved's bedroom… it was shallow, quick, dirty, closer to the truth than he would like… but would it work? He opened his mouth, trying to play his skills to their best—

"You are human… and yet…" The kitsune's voice made the words die in his throat—one could only assume death at the dangerously soft tone. He recalled it from the redhead's fights, in the Tournament, when a hapless fool would anger him. It was that—the cool, understated confidence conveyed through words delivered so deliberately quiet it would set anyone on edge—which silenced him. In this moment, he was acutely reminded of the steelier side of his beloved's soul.

Partially in shadow from the leaves of the branches of the tree overhead, that clever, infuriatingly _clever_ youko was observing him through half-drawn eyes, one partially obscured by thick scarlet tresses that appeared grey in the night—and he would be a fool to assume that the glint of saffron in the verdant depths was a spare bit of light reflecting off the moisture coating those oculars. That single optic was fierce, though, a glint of deadly, uncompromisingly purposeful intent in the dark depths set within a deceptively angelic face.

"…I…" Even to himself, that simple word was too squeaked, sounded too innocent and unsure to be real—perfect. It was careful, now… he had to be so careful. Turning his head to the side, hiding behind a curtain of hair as though bashful, sharp eyes darted this way and that in his mind, trying to latch onto an adequate—no, not adequate but perfectly executed—response.

"For what reason have you come here?" His throat was dry, as he opened his mouth, again, to the question that interrupted his attempt to offer a comment in his defense—only to swallow. It was excruciatingly loud in the silence after his beloved's statement.

"…I… only w-wished… to see you…" Good, good, a tremble there never hurt—his arms were pinned to his sides by the branches of the tree—not painfully, for which he was curious(then again, Kurama had always had a strange affinity for not harming the 'innocent', since he'd been reborn in this world, and his soft spot for humans was, by now, infamous…), but decided not to complain of it, keeping his tone in the scared, high squeak of a human teenager caught in a situation he did not understand, oh-so-young and confused… yes, yes, that would be his mask. He would call the fear of Kurama killing him back to his mind when the kitsune wished to meet his eyes, but until then…"…I-I don't—w-what is…"

"This tree is an old friend of mine, and he did not take lightly to your shoes digging into his bark, these past few months." He was jarred, first by the smoothly executed response—then cursed mentally, again. Of course, Kurama would know… even if his ki was invisible to the plant, his weight wasn't. Neither was the body heat that labeled him as an animal, a living being… surely, if Kurama had looked into it he would have discovered how long he'd been coming here.

"I merely… assisted him in acting on his thoughts." However, that low alto was slowly turning pensive, and he dared a glance towards the redhead. That unearthly quality was slowly fading, the darkness seeming less oppressive around the fox—there was even a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips. For a moment the reincarnated demon couldn't register the expression… then, shakily offered a mirroring one of his own, squirming just slightly, rubbing against the bark as though to find a more comfortable settlement of his self.

"…c-could he… let me down, do you think—?" He would feel so much better if he could not be snapped in two on a whim, even though it seemed unlikely, with Kurama apparently pinning him as an ordinary human(he thanked whatever god had given him that gift, that he'd had the foresight to shield both his reiki and youki from the fox, with that first seal)—one could never tell. However, he did see the youko's lips twitch, and a slightly playful narrowing of those drowning green eyes let him know his attempt at lightening the situation was not in vain.

"Ah, now I'm not so certain of that…" That voice was almost careless, nonchalant—but that faint glimmer of teasing in the kitsune's gaze did not waver. He allowed himself to relax, minutely confident that he would not be killed… so long as he kept his 'innocent, infatuated human' mask firmly in place. The crow forced a blush onto his cheeks, painfully hating the exposure, but knowing—somehow—that the kitsune would pick up on it, and it could only help him, at this point…

"W-Why—?" Was it his imagination, or was there a grin—a smirk?—tugging up a corner of the redhead's mouth?

"I believe there is first the matter of your explanation to attend to."

: : :

_"C'mere, boy—we'll take yeh someplace nice, y'u'll get a good night's sleep—"_

_They were saying something, but it was in a language he'd only heard a few times, before… however, the iway/i they said the words was making him sense a threat. Saffron oculars flicked to the 'subtle' movements of one of the youkai's hands, towards the back of his belt… his mood went suddenly sour. Yelling once more, for them to go away(even though they likely wouldn't understand him), he turned without another glance, and felt the whoosh of his seedlings rising to life from the ground, tangling around the demons and ripping them apart. Their screams rent the air, until they were cut wetly short. The young fox demon coolly glanced back, at that point, unfeeling amber glinting in his own gaze as a small splatter of purple blood sprayed upon his cheek. Nonchalantly, he wiped it off with a thumb._

_They had been killed in the most gruesome manner—and yet the most satisfying, for his more bloodthirsty plants. The ones that fed on such life-sustaining fluid were already scrambling to drink up the flowing nectar, and the trespassers' bodies would make excellent fertilizer for the rest of the plants. They were impaled many times through, with the ends of vines sharpened to blades, hung as though on display, almost oddly as those criss-crossing deadly tendrils of strong, deceptively thin greenery jutted fully through their corpses at varying angles and degrees. He walked over to the dancing object of marigold-yellow, that was as fluid as water, staring at the odd, flickering thing in curiosity, then leaning down and reaching a finger out to touch it—_

_**Itai! **_

_Pulling back with a pain-filled yelp of surprise, he cupped the burnt finger close to his chest, eying the small __**hot**__ thing untrustingly, now. He had no use for it. But how to put it out? Anything living would burn, that was clear—if it burned the wood, and burned him, what else could he suspect?_

_Ah. A rock shouldn't burn. It wasn't alive and so shouldn't feed that hungry tongue…_

_He located the largest stone he could find, and hefted it back to the clearing, firmly pressing it down onto the small, flickering substance that burned like acid when touched with a bare hand. He waited a few moments, grinding the stone into the burnt wood for good measure before daring to lift it, cautious of that tiny yellow thing having at last found a reason for vengeance—the death of its masters—… but was greeted only with a chalky, black substance that was cooling to the touch, but nothing more._

: : :

~One Month Earlier~

She had been wandering in amidst the trees for what felt like years. While, at first, it was refreshing—it reminded her of her childhood—after a while it began to feel more and more oppressive, the further she went. The trees were growing darker, closer together… and she had a distinct inkling that she was being followed. Only after a few weeks did she notice this, and then with careful observation for a few days, she began to pinpoint where the source of the youki was. It tended to keep to trees, and sometimes disappeared for a few days—but it usually always returned around nightfall, when she was getting ready for sleep. The cold did not bother her(as there was both fire demon and koorime blood in her veins), so she just comfortably curled up at the base of a tree with her knapsack where a human would have been shivering in their heavily-insulated sleeping bag beside a raging campfire.

It eventually got to the point where she could sense the demon behind her… and at last, one of those days, tired of being so silently stalked(and recalling her not-so-pleasant run-in with the human, Tarukane, and his cronies… and how they had gone about capturing her), she turned around, mustering the fiercest voice she could manage, and called fearlessly(she hoped) to the trees, her soft voice echoing about their branches.

"Who is there! Please, show yourself!" She steeled herself for a confrontation, beginning to take note of the ice all around, for her own benefit—Touya-san had taught her to use her surroundings and drop the temperature(she'd done that, before, but he had showed her how to summon it at will, not just when she was feeling angry), as she would be at an advantage over most demons in colder surroundings. It was lucky there was snow and ice around—she might be able to make them form a shield, if this demon tried to attack.

There was an instantaneous flash of black in front of her vision and she raised her arms instinctively over her face with a gentle cry of surprise, to protect it—but when nothing came she blinked, slowly, taking to peering through the gap in her arms before she gasped, a name escaping her as she ran forward, enveloping the wiry fire youkai in a relieved hug.

"Hiei-san!?" He was stiff beneath her, all hard angles and clearly not comfortable with the close contact—so she quickly let go, a small smile nonetheless brimming onto her face as she stepped back, bowing slightly in apology although her tone was still lit with happiness, at finding a familiar face so far north.

"Ah, I'm sorry… I did not expect to see you here." She blinked at him, staring slightly, and he shifted, casting a glance towards her from the side of his sight before tipping it off, elsewhere.

"I was training."

"Oh!" Slightly worried, the koorime brought a hand to cover her mouth in surprise, ruby oculars widening a bit. "I'm so sorry! Did I interrupt your training?" The Jaganshi merely moved to stare at her, garnet… garnet oculars drilling into her own. Unreadable—but not expressionless. He didn't… he always seemed to be so on-edge, around her. She attempted a slight smile, stepping forward just a bit, hoping to ease the gathered tension.

"…Hiei-san? I… appreciate your concern for my safety, but—"

"You did. It was inconvenient." The interruption was abrupt, and he turned his back on her. She blinked, lips curving downward in a soft, frustrated frown. He didn't… he didn't want to admit he'd been following her? Even when it was so obvious, now that she looked back, and compared the youki she'd been feeling with who was standing before her, now…

She hid a smile behind her hand. It was… rather endearing of him, to be worried about her enough to follow her, but to deny it when confronted about it. She doubted he would state it like that, however… Beaming warmly, she transformed that amused little smile to a gentler one, optics half-mooning sweetly at the Jaganshi's back.

"Oh? I apologize, Hiei-san." He glanced back at her, only canting his head enough that a single—red… optic observed her, again showing no real reaction, but she could almost guess he was suspicious at the tone. She blinked as though surprised at him facing her, then smiled once more, gaze quietly locking on the fire demon's own.

"…did anyone ever tell you… we have very similar eyes, Hiei-san?" She took another step forward, expression growing a touch more serious, even as that soft, hesitant curve remained on her lips. At the comment, the temperature seemed to drop sharply, and the line of the other youkai's shoulders had gone very tense—she could see it from here. Slowly… she pressed on, voice falling a hint gentler as the koorime continued to approach, that ever-so-slight smile lingering on her face as she began to raise an almost-trembling hand towards the other youkai's back, fingers stretching as though to catch his scarf.

"…and… now that I—think of it…" Quite lightly, those digits brushed the back of that white ascot wrapped around his neck, her own scarlet gaze locked on the one visible orb of his—his reactions were puzzling. Hiei-san looked as though he was—what was that human expression Kazuma-san had told her about?—a… 'deer caught in headlights', or some such similar thing. In fact… he was so tense it made her wonder what was… bothering him so much. Was it her presence? He'd always seemed to be rather distant, but… he'd saved her, twice, hadn't he? He couldn't dislike her too terribly much, if he had saved her… and, here in this forest, followed her—she continued, voice soft.

"Hina-okaasan always said… my older brother—he had eyes just like mine…" A slender, pale hand had shifted, its fingertips gingerly resting on the ebon fabric concealing a shoulder beneath his cloak, and she leaned in so slightly, trying to get a better view of his face from behind his shoulder, blinking sharply at how his muscles were drawn into themselves so tightly, she would be surprised if he hadn't turned to stone… or ice?

"…Hiei… -san…? Are you all right—?" Carefully, she eased off from her previous thought with that comment, having determined a theory, but… willing to give him his space, if he needed it—even as the heel of her palm remained pressed, almost feather-lightly, to the inky material covering him. She could feel the warmth of his youki strumming beneath her palm, warmer than Kazuma-san's(naturally, seeing as what element Hiei-san controlled), but not so hot as to burn…

He tipped his head faintly, staring at her now with his full gaze for a few frozen moments in time, and she him—scanning his eyes, glancing back and forth between them(the Jagan hidden behind its ward)… taking note of the rich, carmine color—the 'color of blood', as she had so oft been teased about, on Hyouga. It was the very same color that had haunted Hina-okaasan, whenever Yukina met her gaze.

It was… strange, but—nearly comforting, to see the exact hue of her own mirrored in another's eyes.

However—

Her gaze slowly trailed downward, studying the curve of his face—child-like, as to her own. It was elvish, almost like to what she recalled of her mother's face—his features were so young, like hers and Hina-okaasan's(fogged memory serving the best, here, and how Rui-san has said Yukina bore a real resemblance to her mother), large eyes—they both had small frames… Certainly they must have the same build, as they were both shorter than nearly everyone in their close-knit group(excluding Genkai-shihan), she'd seen him fight countless times during the Dark Tournament, she could recall how slight he appeared, how birdlike, then… and, he was often so nervous around her—and so very… protective… of… her…

Memories suddenly flashed in rapid succession.

The human, Tarukane, Hiei-san's shell-shocked look when she asked who he was—

Botan-san looking nervous, when Yukina had shown up at the Ankoku Buujutsukai, professing that she was searching for her older brother(she had not missed the look of relief on the ferry girl's face when the koorime admitted to not having a picture of him, to help in her search)—

Botan-san, so quick to defend Hiei-san in front of her, as Kazuma-san was telling her about Hiei-san and how 'dangerous' and 'mean' he was—

Hiei-san saving her, as a wall circling the Tournament arena nearly collapsed on her—

Their eyes were the same precise shade of scarlet, their builds very similar—they were both small and pale and slight… like two sides of the same coin…

From what Rui-san had told her of how Hina-okaasan had described the appearance of the fire demon that was Yukina's(and thus, her brother's) father…

All of the inklings, the half-conceived notions found this moment as the time to line themselves up, into a proper deduction—she'd always felt a nagging sensation in the back of her mind, ever since she'd met him at Tarukane's mansion, that she should know him from somewhere, had met him at some point in the past, but…

The koorime's mouth fell open in silent, demure surprise as the realization fully caught up with the current moment(this flash of insight barely having taken a blink's worth of time), a hand coming up just a few instants too late to completely cover the slightly parted lips, white showing around the carmine pupils, irises shrinking within their circular pools in disbelief, but the more she thought of it, the more—

"Hiei-san…" That positively breathless utterance must have spooked him, because the Jaganshi's own expression suddenly flashed to panic—he was gone, then, and she gasped upon sensing motion, reaching out for the blurred after-image, tipping forward and running a few steps, intending to follow—

_Don't go…_

"Hiei-san! Ikanaide! Hiei-san!"

He was nowhere to be found—she couldn't sense his presence, at all…

"Hiei-san—!"

~*~To Be Continued~*~


	9. Memory

Disclaimer: I don't own Yuu Yuu Hakusho, or any of its characters. Those belong to Yoshihiro Togashi-sama, who made a lot more out of them than I ever could have. ^^;; I just do fanfiction for fun, and earn no monetary rewards for writing it. Reviews are, of course, worth as much as silver.

Title: Second Try  
Chapter Nine: Memory  
Word Count: 7,775

Anime: Yuu Yuu Hakusho  
Pairing: HieixKurama, ?xKurama  
Warning: Angst, violence, language, shounen ai, mention of insanity/suicide, shoujo ai

Author: Kita Kitsune  
Date: Sunday(sun-day!), September 20, 2009

Miscellaneous Notes: I love this chapter. Really, really, I do. I love the Youko backstory in it, as well(it gets better in the next one!). I know the first kanji(for Kurama's name) is not _exactly_ the same as how I've 'translated' it, here… but, in English we don't use kanji. xD ;;; And… it's a fanfic in English. Thus the reasoning/excuse-making for creative license~! x3

More Notes(Tuesday, October 6, 2009): Having the G-20(G-35?) in Pittsburgh was amusing(students getting mixed-up in riots and tear-gassed on campus for standing around watching the protestors[during the, as I quote "Fuck the Police" gathering, on Friday night], lol), but… Life pulled rank hard, last week. [Shall I rant? I shall.] Crazy stress from two exams(Wed. morning and afternoon), a kanji test(Thurs. afternoon), two homework assignments due(Tues.(that one was late) and Thurs. afternoon), two doctor's appointments(Tues. and Thurs. afternoon, the Tues. one of which they drew blood for and so I almost fainted[as I've never had blood drawn, before, most likely] as a result), and two 'experiments' where I was the 'experimentee'(Mon. and Thurs. morning before my classes on those days) took it out of me. Literally no time, at all, to write(what with the kanji practice and such, which means repeating the same character about 40-60 times so I learn-retain how to write it as well as its meaning, and for an entire lesson of 15 characters that's about 600-900 characters written in one sitting, on mindless repeat). [Oh, and I have to start looking at classes for registration, for next semester.] Thus the stagnation and the long wait for a new chapter. Sorries. x.x Hopefully I'll put the finishing touches on chapter ten, so I can post this later today(it's 3:14 AM, EST, right now). D: Bah! x.x

[On the plus side, the mother is coming to visit this weekend(it's a six-hour drive from home, and because of that she only visits once a semester—once in Fall, once in Spring), and we might be going to see "Cirque du Soleil: Alegria"(We[the mother and I] never go to these sort of things, but we like them. We haven't gone to one since the Nutcracker by the Russian Ballet when I was in elementary school. I don't think it's being frivolous and over-indulgent if you only go to these things twice in about twenty years, right?), 'cause it's in Pittsburgh from October 7-11—so there's something that could break the monotony. We(this time, as in the students and staff of the university) also have off on Monday~! x3]

…Screw it. I'm posting this tonight. D: (It's now 3:43 AM)

Even More Notes(Saturday, October 24, 2009): Sorry for the late, late, late update. I had no Internet access at my apartment from the 13th of October until about today(it's still sorta spotty--loading pages takes forever, but I'm really trying to update on here for you guys~!). Thanks to Vixen-of-Ice and various crimes for letting me know people are still reading this story. ;3 I hope this chapter meets expectations~! :3~~

: : : : : : :

_The years passed, and as nearby Saddle-Horse Village grew in popularity(due to its excessive breeding of the Makai strain of the Ningenkai species in order to meet growing demand among demons for both horsemeat and an easier means of transportation), the number of youkai tromping through Saddle-Horse Forest increased. It was an endless annoyance to the young youko, who was just as content living alone in his secluded wood. The forest was shrinking at faster and faster a pace, despite his attempts to thwart the progression of 'civilization' into his land. So, he took his anger out on the passersby, violently murdering anyone who set foot inside his forest. Eventually the fox grew powerful enough to defend his territory from the feeble attempts to clear land, that the progress slowed, and the town drew back in fear whenever the name of the forest was mentioned. Kurama-mori, "Saddle-Horse Forest"(the 'u' in the first part of 'uma' cut off as people were always in a hurry, when talking—thus making the name pronounced by the locals(and eventually all of Makai) 'Kurama', not 'Kurauma') made the locals want nothing to do with the ghoul that lived in the dark recesses of the wood._

_Some said that it was a god, fallen from long ago, taking revenge on worshippers that had forgotten him in light of more industrial pursuits._

_Others, that it was a group of thieves who used the place as their hideout, and set traps and killed any who came too close to their guarded treasure._

_And still others… these tales were mostly told from children, for they seemed to be the only ones who survived any contact with that haunted wood—or the good ones, at least. The ones who were bad, unruly and rude who wandered in were never seen again, but the good, polite and quiet ones always seemed to come back—sometimes with strange flowers in their hair, and their eyes full of stars, babbling about a silver-haired youko and the beauty of forest-song in the morning, and the voices of the trees and flowers and wind and water twinkling through brooks like stars did the night sky…_

_Of course, these children were paid not much mind when they were small, but as they grew, and began to replace their parents… They held firm in their belief that a guardian-youko, a magical, powerful youko unlike any other inhabited the still-large expanse of Kurama-mori. Even as the village moved on from its horse enterprises, the business spreading out to other towns—it kept its name, and so did the forest. The children never learned the youko's name, it seemed he never had one, but the ones that stayed close to home seemed to visit the forest more and more as they got older. They said that the youko was young and beautiful, although—and they all giggled, at this…_

_When he learned enough of their Makai-demon language, one of the first things he asked was, 'why did they cover themselves'. They'd all laughed, and just said—_

_"Because that's what we do, in Makai! Only animals don't wear clothes!" He'd, surprisingly, seemed not to take offense to this—the youko of Kurama-mori was known well for his temper—and instead took to contemplating it. The children grinned, as they told this part of the story, for the next time they came back he was wearing a gauzy white-robe-sort-of-outfit, made from what they didn't know, but it shone and never seemed to stain and practically glimmered, all on its own. He'd asked them, offhandedly, what they thought of it and they'd all just agreed that the white clothing set off his silver hair, and tail, and ears, and saffron eyes so well… and as a result(it seemed), now every time they came he was sure to be wearing it._

: : :

~Three Weeks Earlier~

When she came upon the birds' nest—it was only a ruined litter of twigs and straw. The occupants were nowhere to be found, only a few discarded feathers gathered around the broken home. The scene unnerved her, slightly… perhaps they had been attacked by a hungry animal? It was not the most admirable aspect of life, but necessary, and… she tried her best to shake it off, turning to head off in the direction she'd come from.

_Hiei-san…_

: : :

As hours passed, and there was still no sign of him, she found herself beginning to worry more. Valiantly, the koorime tried her best to keep it from bothering her, but an old whisper of death echoed at the back of her mind.

_Why didn't he tell you? He didn't want you hurt, if he died in battle…_

She shuddered, her pale frame shaking beneath the cape Genkai-shihan had leant her. Hina-okaasan… why was it, that all of her family members… ? She shook her head, at this thought. No! Hiei-san was not dead. He had merely… run from her. He was… so different than that ice-baby-sculpture Hina-okaasan had cradled. She could see his features laid over the ice, but… Surely, he knew what it felt like to have no family? He had been raised without even Rui-san there, to help him… what sort of life had he lived? She only wished to be close to him… she only wished to feel love from her family, Rui-san not included… Hina-okaasan had always been so distant, preoccupied, unstable. But Hiei-san…

Did Hiei-san know how dearly Hina-okaasan had loved him? Did he know… that the loss of him so tore at her heart, that it was only a few years later she fell to her own death? Yukina's thoughts teetered towards old regrets—

_Hina-okaasan..._

_Why did you have to die—?_

_I… Rui-san has been wonderful to me, but…_

_Hina-mama…_

_Why did you have to die? Why did you have to leave me!_

She had curled into herself on the path, kneeling, and roughly covering the collecting tears in her eyes with petite, pale hands, catching most of them before they could fall in gem-form to the snowy ground below. Hina-okaasan… she had never been the attentive guardian Rui-san had been, and yet… and yet—

Was it so wrong to wish for your mother's love… ?

Unwillingly, she felt herself pulled towards memories—

: : :

_Oi, look, it's Yukina!_

_The small girl blinked, at the gathering of koorime her own age, at the edge of the fence outside the building where they traveled daily, for their education. It mostly consisted of learning to sew, cook, and function as a proper member in society—but always…_

_She attempted a small smile, raising a hand to wave at them even as she dared not assume, and step closer. She'd never had any friends… but, finally, could they—?_

_All too soon she was surrounded by sneering faces—identical blue eyes stared coldly at her from every gaze. Visages oval, square or round, frames short and stout or tall and lanky, it didn't matter—they were perfect(albeit younger and smaller) carbon copies of their mothers, who only stood down the road a ways, chatting._

"_Hey, Yukina." The biggest one of them sneered at her, face not delicate at all, but hard and mean, with angry lines carved all over her expression. Instinctively, she shied away from the leering face, that fragile smile trembling at the corners as she brought her hands up to clutch at her chest in a subconscious move of defense._

"_I-I… K-Konnichi wa, Maiko-san…" But the girl only peered closer, before grinning, and abruptly shoving her on the shoulders, and into the arms of one of her friends, behind._

"_Would you look at those eyes!" Maiko yelled, loudly enough for all in the surrounding area to hear. Her minions chorused around her, adding insults as the poor koorime girl at the heart of this was shoved around in the entrapping circle, rough, small hands like her own pushing and pulling her so she nearly stumbled to the ground not more than once—_

"_So ugly!"_

"_They're like blood!"_

"_Blood, blood!" It became a chant, and at last she fell to her knees from a particularly violent shove, covering her hands with her ears and squeezing her eyes shut to try and block out the sound. It was to no avail, though—Maiko grabbed her by the collar of her yukata, and wrenched her up, causing the poor red-eyed girl's gaze to inadvertently fall on her. The big-for-her-age child snarled in her face, teeth snapping an inch from her nose, enunciating the words excruciatingly well._

"_My mama said your mama's a whore, Yukina! She said she had a __**boy**__, and he was so dangerous he had to die, right then!" There were gasps all around, and involuntarily that garnet gaze fell to the ground. Maiko shook her, again, and, fearful, the tormented girl brought her eyes back up to those perfect-blue ones glinting meanly at her. "__**That's**__ why you have those ugly-ugly red eyes! Because your mama's a whore, and she laid with a man! You've got the eyes to prove it!" She laughed, here. "You're tainted and ugly! You'll never be one of us!"_

"_Yukina's mama's a whore!" Jeering taunts echoing around her…_

"_Uuuuuugly, uuuugly~!" She put her hands to her ears, trying to—_

"_Red eyes, red eyes!" Squeezing those offending oculars tightly shut…_

"_A whore!" N-no, no, Hina-mama wasn't—_

"_Like blood! Eeeeeew!!" If only she was blind, if her eyes were gone, she'd be 'normal'…_

"_Imiko, Imiko, Imiko!" Shrill laughter echoed around the group of jeering children. They must have gotten the word from their mothers… While the term did refer to her older brother, it was now being used as both a painful reminder of her dead sibling and a simple insult. Yukina raised her head, staring miserably down the street towards the adults, begging, pleading for help with her eyes…_

_But the women merely watched, smug smirks on their faces and they leered at her, mouthing the words of their children when they saw her gaze had fallen upon them._

_Forbidden… dirty… filthy… Imiko…_

_After a few more slaps and taunts, they left her there in the snow, outside the school._

: : :

_"Yukina-chan! Goodness, what happened!" Rui-mama's voice was concerned, and the older female hurried over to her—but when the little girl raised her head all that greeted her surrogate mother-figure was a warm smile, eyes half-mooned into bright crescents._

_"I fell, Rui-mama." She carefully deposited her pack at the side of the door, before bowing respectably to her mother's life-partner. Exactly as she had been taught, in school. Show respect. Her voice was polite, perfectly accented to show demure elegance in mere words. "May I go play in the forest?" Rui-mama was silent a long time… but at last she heard a soft assent of permission, and the girl turned and ran back out the door. The rips in her yukata fluttered in the wind as small blood stains dotted the fabric, scratches and bruises visible on her pale face and limbs._

_Sighing, the adult koorime shifted to close the door after her. A moment of pensive thought passed, and quiet steps took her to an inner room—the bedroom, they shared. Hina was curled up in a rocking chair, cooing soft nothings to the bundle of ice in her arms. Gently, Rui laid a hand on her shoulder, and Hina started, glancing back up at her with wild eyes before something seemed to register and she smiled. However, the other koorime didn't miss how her arms tightened around the pseudo-baby._

_"Rui! You're just in time, Hio needs his bottle… would you fetch it for me?" Her voice was bright and merry, fingers of the hand not supporting the 'infant's head caressing his face, his cheeks, anything of his visage beneath the bandages that they could reach. Quiet sapphire oculars gazed at her shorter mate, sadness carefully stored away and hidden._

_"Hina… Yukina-chan came home looking awful, again, today. I think she is being bullied by the other—" She was forced to stop when Hina waved a hand in her face, tut-tut-ing and turning her adoring eyes back to the 'child' in her arms._

_"Rui, what are you talking about? Yuki-chan is fine. She's nice and healthy, and growing well." The woman hummed, rocking her babe. "But, Hio needs lots of attention! He's not growing at all!" Her voice became distressed, then, and she abruptly stood, clutching the ice-baby to her chest as her quick movement knocked the rocking chair over. It fell between them like a barrier, frantic, crazed cerulean on somber sapphire as the ice-infant was pressed—hard enough that, had it been a real one, the baby would have been in danger of suffocation—to her bosom. "Rui! What if he's sick! We have to help him!"_

_She couldn't help it. The koorime rushed forward, enveloping the smaller woman in her arms, holding Hina to her and leaning her chin over the other koorime's shoulder. She heard muffled protests about the baby, but Rui merely held her tighter, emotion trying to choke her voice._

_"Hina… oh, Hina—" The tears in that tone must have come across, for her insane partner abruptly stilled both her struggles and her protests. _

"_Hina… I am… so sorry… for what I have done—" She heard a mumble about Rui having done nothing, but that… That Hina had even blocked out the memory, repressed it and it was yet eating away at her, her sanity was— Forcing her voice a notch calmer, Rui attempted to continue. _

"_But, Yukina-chan… Yukina-chan needs you… she doesn't deserve to suffer. You can't just… let his death… you can't—Hina—" Her lover was still, for a moment. Then, suddenly, Rui was shoved away—her long sleeves and kimono skirt sprawled out over the icy floor as she looked up, hard cerulean bearing down on sad sapphire. The 'baby' was once more clutched protectively to the deranged woman's chest._

"_Rui! You would have me sacrifice the life of one of my children for the other?! Hio is a sickly, unhealthy baby! Yuki-chan is well and fine! I will hear no more of thi—" She stopped, eyes widening abruptly as a sound only she could hear echoed out, interrupting her. At this, Hina returned to cooing and murmuring at the ice-child, rocking it, caressing its face and whispering soothing words to it. "Now, now, Hio… don't cry, my dear… don't cry, my baby boy… Hina-mama didn't mean to shout and wake you…"_

_Rui knew…_

_Rui knew she would never get her Hina back, as she watched her love profess various motherly things to the inanimate object in her arms. She knew it was a fruitless endeavor. Their laws as well as her own love and devotion—in addition to her guilt of tossing that boy-child(and Hina's sanity) over the cliff—would not allow her to leave her partner, no matter how unstable she became._

_But… Hina was still Yukina-chan's mother. The mother who had birthed her—just as precious and good as Rui's own child, who had not survived to full term. The fragile girl who had been born already dead._

_For Yukina-chan, she had to keep trying to reach the Hina who was drifting further from reach, day by day… due to her guilt._

: : :

_Laughter echoed in the icy forest, as she frolicked with the animals. They darted here and there, and she smiled, tumbling along with them to land in a giggling heap. She patted their heads, and they rubbed their snouts and noses against her. Little birds landed on her shoulders, fearless of the larger animals, and nuzzled their soft feathery heads to her cheeks._

_The little koorime smiled, gazing fondly at the affectionate animals. Animals… who didn't care what her mother had done, who didn't care that her eyes weren't blue, like every other koorime's on Hyouga. They didn't care she was different._

_It was nice, to have friends like that._

: : :

How intriguing. He ran a long finger over his chin, tapping the digit there as he stealthily trailed the petite young demoness through the woods. Her thoughts were providing an interesting show of entertainment—he smirked to himself, mildly thanking Angel for having done that 'test-run', back in the city. It had awakened a few humans with powers, and he'd gone to peruse them, his own 'chef's delicate taste power providing quite interesting. Especially that one with the 'Tapping' ability… it had proven rather invaluable.

Oh, there were the other humans who had powers in their group, as well… he had to guess, despite Angel's hatred of the human race, that he did _not_ wish for those humans to be tortured. He sighed, long-sufferingly. It had been increasingly boring, as a result… but, here. This—'Yukina', was it? He had seen her, before… yes, quite a _long_ time before, but he never forgot a face. Especially when he recalled that face twisted into shocked, disbelieving agony over… what, the deaths of a few birds? Her 'charming' naïveté bordered on disgusting.

But here, now… she was painting such a lovely, tormented picture of her past for him.

Perhaps she would amuse him for a while—but for the moment, he would wait. He would gather more information from her mind before seeking to amuse himself, further.

: : :

_He was far too disappointed, at the next Urameshi Team match. Mildly cross at finding his kitsune nowhere in sight(and, granted—healthily suspicious of the Jaganshi's absence, as well), he carelessly took to wandering, having no interest in watching the weak, controlled humans. The puppets were taking on the(marginally moreso—how disappointing that Otouto thought that boy would become strong enough to defeat him, if he lost so easily to his own kind—) weak human members of Kurama's strange collaboration of allies._

_Taking a smoothly running start from the top of the stadium, he soared elegantly over the wind and forest below, jagged black cloak billowing out behind him. Lilac-hued oculars scanned the seemingly endless trees, in search of a bit of fun. He was greeted with the too-familiar sounds of destruction, causing a slow, wicked grin to snake, unseen, over his expression beneath the metal mask. Surely, this would be better than the weak human-on-human fight taking place in the ring. Surely, one of his fellow youkai had found a means to amuse themselves, and it would be quite the missed chance if he were to pass up the opportunity._

_Tranquilly, he changed directions, angling himself just so, as to fly towards the source of that sound. A dark figure appeared over the top of the canopy, something sharp glinting in his hand—ahhh, wasn't that the short, mean little demon on the Urameshi Team? It did his heart well, to know that that bastard-child of ice and fire was not laying hands on his pretty fox. If he himself could not, why should anyone else think they were entitled to touching his kitsune?_

_A light hum of piqued interest bubbled in the back of his throat as the figure disappeared, and he heard a cry, then a crash not moments later. The lanky youkai landed out of sight, unhurriedly striding through the trees—only to be greeted with the sight of his redhead somersaulting quite beautifully through the air. The carmine locks were floating gracefully behind, taunting him with the vibrancy of their redness and the silky luxury that shone from the angle of the sun upon the fetching tresses…_

_He felt a shudder, as the ground quaked under the metallic hands of some engineered mechanical monster, but murky amethyst were locked solely on the last place he had seen the fox. That salient gaze was perfectly still as he began to piece apart images from the clearing dust. Soon, a too-lascivious smirk pulled up a corner of his mouth as he beheld the kitsune's clever manipulation of the robot's weakness._

_Ahhhh, Kurama. He spared himself one more perhaps-fond glance, before pivoting neatly on a well-polished boot, and heading back towards the ring. He fought the urge to take advantage of the redhead's current distraction to meet his own tumultuous desires. No doubt, with that minor… altercation… behind them, the two youkai would beat a hasty return to the arena, to help out their more human brethren. Not that it would do them much good—the fools had agreed to a three-on-three match, and the Buujutsukai rules succinctly stated(in numerous ways, for varying levels of intelligence) that the rules were to be followed down to the letter. _

_...Lest the entire island break into a free-for-all, devoid of order._

_Not that he minded the idea of such chaos, but in said chaos(were it to occur), he might make the tragic mistake of seeking out his fox. With no boundaries to hold him in, and the Tournament thrown into disarray, and in the confusion—he might just 'innocently' violate him, which would no doubt soon result in the redhead's untimely death. There was no room for that… Kurama was the first perfect specimen he'd found in a painfully long period of time, and with the Toguro siblings having as good as run his life for the past four decades, his 'dating' methods were sorely out-of-practice. He couldn't even quite recall the last time he'd set ruin to such an exquisite individual… _

_Well. Perhaps this explained his sudden attachment to the youko, the 'instantly smitten' factor aside. A low chuckle wound up, faintly muffled behind the mask, as he serenely waded into the darkness the shadows between trees offered. The burning in his chest that called to be sated in the kitsune's flesh was only growing stronger, by the day. If the humans survived this match, the team might very well make it to the finals—and he then subtly swore to himself that if that be the case, he __**would**__ have Kurama as his opponent, and take all the time he could to 'touch' him in their battle. He would let his beloved explosives speak for him. They would rend that soft human form with bloody wounds and burns in shades of dahlia that would so admirably match the warm mane of claret that waved in beckoning, sultry curls over the kitsune's back and shoulders…_

_It would be his tribute to the fox's beauty—to bathe him in red, all the life that hue gave in cutting irony of embracing him for the last time. He could imagine it… the kitsune would gasp, those grass-green eyes going wide, then nearly closing. The youko would tumble dramatically onto the ring's floor, at that point, never to rise again…_

_He could picture it too well._

_A shiver worked its way over his abruptly-tensed shoulders, and he allowed the violet depths to slide shut, lost to his imaginings as a breathy sigh echoed against the metallic inside of his mask. He would pull out all the stops, for his unfortunately-public lovemaking of his dear fox… The situation gave him no other choice, and it was always so more dramatic when one of the combatants died. As such, he did not quite allow himself to dwell on the notion that, had they met in different circumstances, he would have liked to place the kitsune by his side, forever… _

_The tendency to kill all things he loved, aside, of course._

_It was perhaps the first time in many, many centuries that he could recall feeling the meager, barely-noticeable stirrings of possible regret, for having to take away something already so dear to him…_

_He easily waved the feeling off, instead indulging himself in how best to go about the redhead's demise, in their surely-upcoming match. …For they would most definitely make it to the finals, wouldn't they? Over the course of the past few days, he had not dismissed the way Otouto watched the Urameshi Team battles, nor the way he eyed that 'Masked Fighter'. The bulky demon's words on the boat echoed back to him, then._

_**"Before the finals of this Tournament, a fifty-year disagreement shall come to an end**_**_."_**

_How wonderfully intriguing. It kept his mind off the fox, at any rate…_

_He should look into this. Use his connections, younger and weaker crows to scan about for information—it never hurt to(privately, for his own use, of course) bring to light a weakness about your oppressor, even if said weakness was likely soon to expire…_

: : :

~Two Days Earlier~

"Minamino-kuuuuuun~!"

"Oi, Minamino!" The calls were excited(and sometimes lusty), echoed by dozens of girls and boys alike. A single, dark-haired teen stood patiently by the gates of the school as the countless hordes of humans filed out around him. He had eyes only for the sparkle of scarlet in their midst, however. He felt something in his chest flutter awkwardly when those green eyes lit upon him, and attempted a faint smile, raising a hand in a casual wave. The reincarnate allowed himself to take mild comfort in the fact the sunglasses hid his eyes, even as they did nothing to calm his heart. He was becoming rather adept at his 'innocent teenage human' act—however, it never hurt to take precautions. The demon was oblivious to dark, shrewd eyes observing as 'Suuichi' managed to disentangle himself from the group of fans clamoring for his attention. Because of that, he also missed the thoughtful mannerism of thick glasses pushed up on a nose—the action clicking silently, but going largely unheard.

"Kanisawa-san." A smooth alto was closer, warm jade was bearing up from beside him, then, and he felt a small brush of wind as those carmine tendrils settled into stillness. He tipped his head, just faintly, taking in the slightly haggard look of the boy. It was barely discernible, just the slightest ruffling of beautiful scarlet, and only slightly obvious how he had his school bag tucked(no doubt protectively) under one arm. To that effect, the taller teen felt a quiet smirk twitch at his lips, despite all attempts to quell it.

"T-They are… rather 'enthusiastic', aren't they?" He put a bit of nervous flush onto his face and into his tone, at that, allowing the faintest hint of what could have been tentative envy taint his gaze. The kitsune watched him, a moment, and he shifted the slight curl of his lips to a lopsided, slightly abashed or embarrassed smile. The action was slated as though to disarm the scrutiny—without yet denying his interest. Then, slowly… Kurama smiled, and there was a hint of amusement in his good-naturedly chastising eyes.

"Kanisawa-san. Please. They're young..." Ah, the irony of that statement. It would be suspicious if he commented on it, however. Surely, he was passing himself off as a 'spiritually-sensitive' human, with the ability to 'hide himself'. (This was how he had thus found the fox and known right away he was not quite human—or that was the reason he'd given Kurama, anyway.) Of course, as such he should know nothing more of the redhead's inhuman heritage other than what could be easily gleaned from surface interaction. At any rate, the dark-haired would-be teen offered a nod, angling his body such that he intended to leave.

"Shall we go, then?" Another smile met that, and he had to return it, musing idly over the too-natural reaction as they ventured off from the gates of Meiou Academy.

: : :

_Time continued to pass, lazily, in Kurama-mori. The children grew and sent their own children to the forest, to make friends with and learn of plant-secrets, from the youko. For lack of a 'real' name, they dubbed the youko 'Kurama', after his forest. _

_Youko Kurama's Kurama-mori—located on the outskirts of Kurama-machi._

_His legend grew slowly, in those days—he was not yet a thief, and was perfectly content to live until the end of his days in the forest he'd retreated to, after his family's murder. He barely remembered them, now—and he'd not seen his black fox-father in decades. However, it didn't especially bother him. That kit he'd been was far, far away, now. He couldn't remember the last time he'd taken on his own, original kitsune form. It felt almost too natural, now, to use hands and fingers and to run on only two legs. It was easy, as well, to wear the light, flowing clothes(he'd realized they were important for demons who were bipedal and had hands to don), around others. He'd also learned a good portion of their language, as well—it wasn't as lovely and flowing as the plants' language, but it would do when he needed to communicate with the youkai that gathered around him._

_He never left the forest, though. The children would try and coerce him from it, but he would always refuse, saying he preferred the darkness and cool serenity of the wood to the bustling city nearby. Only one day, did they at last succeed in entreating him to go out…_

_It was a lovely day, warm and mild, when he stepped out of the forest. His feet were bare, but the rest of him was clad in the white gauzy robe he'd fashioned from a cotton plant blown in by the winds over the desert(and his own ki). Each hand grasped one of the children's he'd come to know, so well, and a good horde of them followed after him as he stepped quietly into the city. At this time, he was only perhaps a hundred years old—if he would transform into his fox-form, he would see he only had one tail, yet. To say he was amazed by the city was an understatement… growing up as a kitsune, he'd seen only the woods, and in his self-imposed isolation after his family's untimely demise, he'd not ventured out of Kurama-mori, and so…_

"_It's him! The Youko, of Kurama-mori!"_

"_Youko Kurama!"_

"_He's so beautiful—"_

"_So young—feel that youki?!"_

"_I thought he'd be older…"_

_The chorus of whispers around him were too-audible to his sensitive hearing, and he wrinkled his nose. It was a reaction he'd have not once or twice at the acrid smell of so many unwashed bodies, crammed together into the flats of this bustling city. No wonder he had never ventured out. The clean, blanketed carpets of moss and dappled sunlight in the forest were a clear winner over this smog-clouded metropolis._

: : :

~Three Days Earlier~

"…I see." The fox quietly tapped his cheek, seated comfortably atop another branch, the first one still holding the onyx-haired youth captive(albeit with much less force, than before). Jade eyes bore into him, and he fought the urge to squirm uncomfortably. It was imperative Kurama buy his excuse. Suddenly, the kitsune smiled.

"You remind me of a friend of mine… I am impressed with your ability." The redhead waved a few fingers, as though dismissing the compliment, and leaned back easily into the trunk of his tree. "It takes one with great knowledge to mask their presence, entirely. Although I am rather intrigued as to why my demonic aspect does not… ?" The reincarnate allowed a blush to tint his cheeks, at the intent gaze that was curiously unreadable(or so the kitsune likely thought, anyway) and he turned his face away, muttering something—but nonetheless careful of his choice of words.

"I-I've watched you for a long time, and only a few months ago found where you lived… I-I knew you were different, right from the start." He cast a bashful look towards the fox, from under heavy lids and concealing strands of dark hair. "I… I don't care about that. I just—I didn't think you'd ever notice someone like me… I only came by Meiou to pick up my cousin…" He thanked whatever gods above had decided to make it a coincidence that his thin-wisp-of-a-cousin was part of the infamous 'Minamino Suuichi Fan Club'. He dared not ask more, or how it came about… but it at least presented a very convenient excuse for having glimpsed Kurama, before. He stuttered a bit more, in the echoing silence, playing a very human trait to ramble, and fill any lasting quiet with pointless noise. "I—I've… liked you, ever since then, but I didn't want to risk making you uncomfortable. I didn't—I don't even know if you swing that way…" Here he let the cerise hue take over his face, and turned his expression away, hiding under the drawn curtain of his hair.

Luckily, it seemed the redhead did not recall their run-in, some months ago, on the street… thank whoever had granted him this large amount of luck he'd accumulated, for sunglasses.

—Wait. Was that… a blush, on the fox's cheeks? He blinked, noticing it out of the corner of his eye. The ebony-haired youth shifted for a better view, stare growing absently intense as he took in the fetching shade dancing almost unnoticeably over the youko's expression. That is, until verdant oculars locked on his own, and he felt further a rise in his own facial heat(no doubt his human body reacting emotionally to the situation), for being caught. He turned quickly away, once more, and muttered an apology.

…where did _that_ come from?! He was abruptly irritated at himself for the knee-jerk response, even as he knew this act was required, to keep that clever fox off his trail. But to… he kept the grumbling to himself, though, that mental voice falling silent as a softer one echoed out on the physical plain.

"In addition to talent, you must be rather… sensitive… to have realized I am not entirely human, Kanisawa-san." Here, he peeked through the shadowing inky strands, cautiously glancing towards the kitsune. If anything, it was a good sign Kurama was smiling at him, if perhaps a bit uncertainly… When the fox reached out, the demon flinched instinctively away, expecting the worst—only to go deathly still when he felt tender digits running along his cheek. He dared a glance up, and was caught in a sorrowful, ancient emerald stare in which only the barest glint of hope lingered.

"You… are different, as well." The crow did not allow himself to freeze in fear, at that, merely continued to gaze back at the kitsune, affixing a confused gaze onto the fox. It was hard to concentrate, when the mere contact of Kurama's fingertips on his skin sent electric thrills through his nerves and straight down to—

He blushed, hurriedly fighting to turn, to hide away—but a rich twinkle of laughter stilled his withdraw. He gazed back at the fox, yet again, and almost saw a glimmer of pained regret before it was shoved away in light of what seemed to be sad—but perhaps fond—acceptance. The redhead withdrew his hand after patting his companion's cheek, gently.

"Perhaps—our paths have crossed, for a reason."

…Of all the things he had expected Kurama to offer, friendship—instead of death—was _not_ one of them.

: : :

~Two Days Earlier~

Yet, here they were—walking down the street, around the block to his limousine. As always, he offered the kitsune a ride, but the fox simply shook his head with a smile, nodding politely at the driver as he opened the door for the dark-haired lad. Not quite able to stifle the gesture, the taller youth reached out. It was terribly bold, and he was both unnerved and excited by the naked surprise in those beryl optics as he grasped onto the redhead's hand, carefully _brown_ eyes watching him intently.

"…Suuichi-kun." He'd almost uttered a different name, one that would seal his fate—but the kitsune interrupted him softly, not throwing off his hand but not squeezing back as the redhead averted his eyes to the side. It was not a bashful gesture, merely uncomfortable. Interesting…

"No, not Suuichi. It sounds far too…" Another shake of that vibrantly-colored mane. He was momentarily fascinated by the slight movements of those bright strands. "My friends who—the ones who know… call me Kurama." The utterance brought another pained look to the youko's face, then. It made the fox appear as one of the tragic heroes in an ancient drama—with one fatal flaw that brought them to their knees. Something had occurred, in the past few months since the Tournament. Something had changed, in the kitsune… he could tell. Kurama was less stable, more vulnerable(in some ways more than others), and more withdrawn than he'd been, before. It was quite different from the belligerent redhead he'd confronted in the hall, and another being entirely from the confident silver youko he'd fought—

The taller demon had to swallow to try to cure his dry throat—as well as refuse the urge to gather the other into his arms, kiss and tease away that regret until it faded to lust, and terror, and…

"…Kurama, then." Was it him, or had he husked that name with a notch too much desire? The very name that had driven his thoughts for the past seven months, and longer— Nonetheless, if the redhead noticed it only showed by a brief smattering of pink. The dark-haired teen held those elegant fingers another moment before leaning down while simultaneously drawing them to his lips. He almost tenderly dusted his tiers over the back of that hand with lowered lashes, trying to fight off the heady scent that emanated oh-so-naturally from his kitsune with an illustrious murmur.

"Shall I… meet you here, again, tomorrow?" He was becoming a bit too bold, perhaps—but it was in his nature, and he had waited far too long for his own tastes… That 'innocent human' façade could only carry him so far, anyway. Besides, human teenagers were not merely innocent… they had desires and wants, just as any being. The masquerading demon _knew_ he was charming and irresistible when he wanted to be, as well.

Thus, he was quite satisfied by the further demure pinkening of the kitsune's face, even as the redhead turned away and brought a hand to his face to attempt to conceal it. The darker one's lips curled into an unseen grin above the previously-kissed flesh. The slender digits really did no good to hide it—a thumb rested on the apple of one cheek, palm spread over the end of the kitsune's nose as the index finger of the same hand rested upon the curve of the other cheek, remaining fingers spread down the rosied expanse. The clearing of his driver's throat noted him of their surroundings, and he slowly straightened, releasing the fox's hand gently and crossing that same arm over his waist with a modest bow of a nod. As though he were addressing a lady, but the gesture was not meant in such a satiric way… He caught a glimpse of hesitant green alighting his way from over the elegant extremities, framed by cardinal-colored fringe above, and offered an enigmatic smile.

"Tomorrow, then… Kurama." That name, again. He couldn't help it—he adored voicing it, so what was the harm if that last uttering of it had been practically purred? Not giving the kitsune a chance to protest, he glided into his waiting car, only glancing back towards the fox once the driver had closed the door after him. His actions were now safely concealed behind tinted glass, and so he smiled, a hint darker than the last one he'd shown to the redhead. The crow watched lovingly as the youko seemed to startle himself out of his previous state, smiling faintly with that delicious smattering of cerise yet dusted over his cheeks(no matter that it was fading). At that instant, the kitsune seemed to shake himself, once more, hands retreating to pockets as the uniform-clad redhead turned to stride down the concrete pathway(bag yet tucked under his arm), no doubt heading for home. The limo stirred to life, and slowly lumbered away from the curb.

The dark-haired demon reincarnate did not fully settle into his plush seat with an accomplished, smug smile—at least, not until they had driven far enough that the sidewalk where he'd left Kurama had faded well out of sight.

: : :

_The children led him through, never letting go of his hands, and he allowed them to guide him along, meeting regally with relatives, sparing them idle bows of the head or simply moving on, gracefully._

_What he was not expecting, was the jeweled caravan of a visiting noble to be passing through the main thoroughfare, and he and his companions being shoved off to the side. He cast an irritated glance up towards the caravan, idly growing a few weeds up from their place in the choked dust to catch in the convoy's wheels. Coolly, he strode out, brushing off the entreating hands of the children for him to stay back, and walked up to the curtained, cushioned, fanciful waste of extravagance. He brushed the satin drapery aside and stepped boldly to the interior. Not missing a beat, the fox settled himself on a pillow and reclined on his side as though he owned the place, resting his chin elegantly atop the heel of a hand._

_"My, my. What brings someone of such renown here, I wonder?" He knew his voice was cool, calm, and utterly smooth—all perfectly calculated to bring about just the most fetching shade of purple on the fat noble's face. Sharp eyes took note of the numerous ornate baubles and trinkets decorating the pig's body, and he smirked, charming down to the last note even as the boar sputtered for his—_

_"Guards! Guards!" The youko chuckled, enjoying his fun, and swept up to dangle from the high bar that held up one side of the curtained 'ceiling'. He was perched upside-down, a hand taut as it curled onto the bar in a secure hold and both feet placed flatly upon the underside of the slender, horizontal metal pole for support. For all the world, he appeared as though there were no more comfortable 'seat', holding his own light weight apparently effortlessly with that one arm._

_"Now, now, no need to get so belligerent."_

_"Who are you?!" The noble demanded, shaking a fist up at the fox. Smirking coolly, the fox revealed a cupped hand, and in it—one or two of the more ostentatious necklaces from around the pig demon's neck. The boar roared, lunging for the youko, but only managed to catch the curtain with its tusks. The silk was dragged down as playful laughter snuck out to reach the air, and the muffled quality of that arrogant tone did nothing to stem its implications. Notably, as well, it came from **outside** the ruined drapes._

_"The Youko, of Kurama-mori."_

: : :

~Present Time~

He gazed kindly at the eleven-year-old ghost figiting before him. Botan hovered just behind him, at the door—he knew she was watching him like a hawk. The ferry girl did always let herself get so involved with her 'special cases'… he fought the urge to sigh, firmly keeping his patient smile.

"Kanisawa Meirin-san. Botan informs me that you have had trouble passing on, since your death."

A mute nod. Well, it was better than nothing… ah, a squeak. Was she speaking?

"K-Koenma-sama… I…" She kept her eyes respectfully to the ground, he noticed. "I… my brother… he… he didn't act like himself, when he…" He could tell she was fighting with this. No doubt, it was hard, being killed by your own sibling… The demigod's eyes widened when her own brown ones met with his, far too desperate and entreating—"P-please, Koenma-sama! Something's not right! 'niisan is—"

Her next words, whatever they may have been, were cut off by an oni's shouts echoing from the hall. An unknown voice responded to that shout, and sooner than any of them could blink, an irate-looking spirit had floated through the walls and into the room. He cast a withering glare towards the godling.

"Koenma! Finally! I've got a bone to pick with you…" A little late, a purple ogre(presumably, the one who had been shouting), burst into the room, heaving ragged breaths and prostrating himself before the brunet.

"A-a t-t-thou… sand—apolo… gies, Ko-Koen… ma-sa… -sama!" He was fighting hard to get his speech right, wheezing the words with so much extra spit. Both amused and irritated by the display, the brunet wrinkled his nose, but allowed him to speak—well, at least until the ghost interrupted him, again, glaring at the godling.

"Koenma! This is about Kurama! Some creep has been following him, Kanisawa-something-or-other, and the boy's spirit's not right, it feels too much like a demon, and—"

"Kanisawa?!" All eyes went to the girl's spirit, who had gone white. She rushed forward, grabbing the other ghost's arm(they were both dead, after all), clenching her fingers around it as her voice went high-pitched and pale—"K-Kanisawa Takashi?! E-Eighteen years old? In Tokyo?? My brother?!" The Minamino ghost gazed at her uncertainly, with her voicing of it, indeed, the entire name came back. He'd been following the boy, after all, to his home and everything—it didn't take an idiot to determine his name. (Especially when the one engraved outside the house was 'Kanisawa', and his family members inside of it called him 'Takashi'.)

"Kanisawa… Takashi? I suppose—" Koenma's eyes narrowed, running back and forth between the two spellbound spirits. Kurama's father, he remembered… the ghost often passed through, around his death date, after visiting the grave. However, it was two months too late, for that…

Suddenly businesslike, the brunet demigod cleared his throat, arms folding behind his back, the clipboard having long ago been handed off to Botan(still lingering, silent, by the now-closed door). He evened a stare on both of the spirits as they now jerked their gazes to him.

"I believe we should discuss this in further detail. Kanisawa-san." He nodded, acknowledging her, before shifting his attention elsewhere, eyes narrowing. "Minamino-san, if you would please elaborate on your findings? As it involves one of my best tantei and a potentially dangerous human, this could very well be a life-threatening situation…" A grim smile strode out onto the ghost's face, as he nodded, floating down to a seat and careful not to dislodge the girl's hand from his arm. She was clinging, eyes frantic, still. She needed the contact—it made no difference that, them both being dead, there was no warmth to feel.

"Yes. Of course…"

~*~To Be Continued~*~


	10. Intrusion

Disclaimer: I don't own Yuu Yuu Hakusho, or any of its characters. Those belong to Yoshihiro Togashi-sama, who made a lot more out of them than I ever could have. ^^;; I just do fanfiction for fun, and earn no monetary rewards for writing it. Reviews are, of course, worth as much as silver.

Title: Second Try  
Chapter Ten: Intrusion  
Word Count: 7,548

[Total Word Count: 66,220]

Anime: Yuu Yuu Hakusho  
Pairing: HieixKurama, ?xKurama  
Warning: Angst, violence, language, shounen ai

Author: Kita Kitsune  
Date: Friday(gold-day!), September 25, 2009

Miscellaneous Notes: Ah, and yes, I know Hiei said the thieves(not his mother!) who raised him, named him. My thought is, that Hina named him after he was tossed, because it all happened so quickly she didn't have time to give him a name. However, in the insanity-producing aftermath where she starts to use 'the ice-sculpted-infant', it seems only natural she'd give her pseudo-baby 'son' a name. Now then—in Japanese, with the right kanji: Fire + boy= Hio （火男 ）. Simple. Easy. Dirty(no, I don't really care if it's not a real name. ;3). xD Hey, she's insane, cut her some slack for the lack of creativity~ x3

More Notes(Saturday, October 10, 2009): Waha, finished the chapter(onto write the next one~!). I hope none of you mind my insertions of Japanese. Usually I try to keep them to just spoken stuff, and try to keep the narratives in English, but if anyone's confused let me know. Typically, if I put Japanese into dialogue it's either got a translation nearby or the meaning should be obvious enough that you guys understand. :3 Otherwise, I try not to do too much Japanese. It's an English fic, after all.

Even More Notes(Saturday, October 24, 2009): [Uwah, I'm posting this over a month after I finished it. D: ] …Ah. Also. Sorry for the late post. I had no Internet(at my apartment) from Tuesday the 13th until basically today(they hooked up the DSL, but it still wasn't working so I've had to call technical support about three times). So… yes. It wasn't quite possible to adhere to timely updating(although I've finished chapter eleven and started chapter twelve, so perhaps it helped ease off the pressure, a bit…)—and, _damn_, but life is dull without Internet(still not on a completely-functional connection, but I wanted to post!). ;.;~

[ZOMG I CAN FINALLY READ FAWX-SAN'S UPDATE ON 'IMMORTAL'~! AND LADY_FLAMEWING'S NEW KURAMA/YUUSUKE FIC! HUZZAH! (And maybe 'Saiyuki', online… my friend gave me some of her manga, and so I'm up past the second volume of 'Reload'—I believe her act of kindness saved my sanity in the ensuing boredom of no-Internet-times. ;3~)]

(Saturday, November 7, 2009): Thanks so much to Vixen-of-Ice for the only review(on FF dot net), for this chapter. :3

: : : : : : :

~Four Days Earlier~

_Where is she!?_

He firmly pushed away the rue that was tugging at his mind, forcing himself to flit faster from branch to branch. He'd not left her, for long—! She should still be in this forest! She was not fast, she was not powerful, she could not travel long distances in a few minutes' time, as he could—

_ So… why?! Why can't I locate her!_

An uneasy feeling had settled in the back of his mind, reminded of the only other time his Jagan had not been able to pick up her youki. Along with it came guilt, but he had no time for it now—no time to dwell on the last expression he'd seen on her face, that shocked incredulity, that…

He could handle everyone else damning him, but she—Yukina was… she was his _sister_, damn it! Light where he was dark, bettering the world in unknowing penance for everything he had destroyed or ever would. He had never wanted her to know… everyone else he could reject and be rejected by without batting an eye, but Yukina—he never wanted to see rejection in her eyes. It was a weak reason, a low reason… but it kept her far enough away from him that it did its intended duty.

But for… three weeks ago.

_Has it really been three weeks?!_

He cursed himself, for the time-lapse.

As the woods had echoed with her fading call for him not to leave, he had run. Harder and faster than he ever had, before, he had run. Over branches, dodging pinecones and snowdrifts, birds' nests(this far north, he was mildly surprised), fleeing higher and further from the source of the strange, unsettled, _raw_ thing that had gutted him in the chest. He had flown, raced the wind, challenged the snowstorms. The ground grew colder and harder with each mile up towards the northern edge of the large island.

He didn't think. He couldn't. No thought. Just run.

There was nowhere to go. Just run.

He didn't know how long, how many days, or weeks, or how many nights he spent in that same patch of forest bordering the icy sea, endlessly running along the same paths with only slight variations to keep his mind occupied, not allowing it to wander. He didn't know where she was, what she was doing. All he knew was he'd exhausted himself, and involuntarily collapsed—falling from a tree onto the snowy ground. Cold, solid ice between his fingers melted instantly as he fisted it against his palm. Breathing hard, he pushed himself up, hands pressing into fast-disappearing snow, and stared down at the chilled whiteness, red eyes wild and erratic as they tried to resist the pulling of his focus from the physical—which had sustained him for so long—to something not in their field of vision.

_"Hiei-san…" That positively breathless utterance was too soft, too trembling with repressed emotion—and the intensity of those scarlet eyes spooked him. The raw feeling raging behind them was a deluge that would escape, throw down their barriers and threaten to swallow them both in a far too real future, seen in her gaze. It was insane. Too much—too much._

_**I can't be here.**_

_He was gone, then, and heard a gasp from far behind him, the distant crunch of snow underfoot as she stumbled forward a few steps. No doubt she was reaching out for his blurred after-image, tipping forward, her mind's plea louder to him than the gentle, desperate voice echoing around the place he'd completely left, seconds prior—_

_**Don't go…**_

He had been a fool, to run. To leave her, unprotected and alone in these woods so far north where there were no humans around for miles. It had been inexcusably irresponsible of him. To think, that… to think that he had dared place his own discomfort above her safety. What kind of guardian was he!

He'd only come back to himself, a few hours ago, and the first thought was to search for her. He scanned the region, calmly assuring himself he'd find her youki with no trouble—cool and sweet, chilled only around the edges. When nothing came up, he hadn't worried. He'd merely redirected himself, flitting further south while continuing to search with the Jagan for her ki. When he came up with nothing once more, he began to feel unsettled. When he reached the clearing where he'd left her, and found only the faintest lingering trace of her youki—the trail a month old, at that—he found his anxiety growing yet more.

Perhaps she had merely… left, to return to Tokyo? It was a long journey by foot, and he recalled how she did not entirely trust the conveniences of modern Japan. Yes, that… that was a likely possibility. He had disappointed her by leaving, so suddenly, and she had given up her search of him—most likely annoyed. The fire youkai violently pushed down the tightening in his chest, at the thought.

It was best, this way. It was best for her to move on, from him. She would be in no danger if she stayed away. Perhaps it was better she was angry with him, for keeping the truth from her, for so long—it would keep her away.

After another moment's introspection, that black blur disappeared in a silent smear of shadow. Whether she wished to see him, or not—she was still his sister, his only living family, and it would not sit right with him until he located her, knew she was safe.

—Truth be told, he did not relish meeting with her unless forced to. Perhaps he was not admitting to himself he did not wish to be hurt by any irritated words she might send his way. Perhaps, this was the reason he cloaked his energy flawlessly, to avoid being detected should he indeed locate her…

Easily flickering through dense woodland, he headed south—towards Sendai, and he would go no further. If he did not find her in a day or two, he would return here. It was a rough estimate, assuming that a one-month journey on foot would take him only a pair of days. He pushed himself to his uppermost limits, Jagan opened wide and glowing an eerie purple on his forehead, seeking.

_I will find her, and then I will leave her be, once more._

_I will not stifle her with overprotection, as the fox does his mother._

: : :

_ A lavender gaze narrowed, acutely aware of how close that ninja's brush had placed aforementioned ninja's fingers to his kitsune's wrist. He was fuming internally, hands fisted angrily within their deep pockets, oculars narrowed to intimidating slits. Otherwise, no one could tell, he was suppressing his youki excellently, so as to leave the other members of his team unaware of his current state of disgruntled annoyance. No one could see the hard line of his jaw beneath the mask, anyway. It was maddening enough that that low-level youkai was smearing his ugly, smelly blood all over __**his**__ fox… He'd be sure to kill him after the match was over, for committing such an atrocity._

—_Even though the idea of warding Kurama did have some merit._

_ "Something bothering you~?" The cackle that sounded in his ear was obnoxiously delighted. He closed his eyes, briefly imagining tearing the bearer of that voice limb from limb until there was nothing left but scraps for the rats and vermin to feed upon. However, when he turned his head, those violet oculars were cool and mildly bored. They spited the sharp desire to flick their vision back to the ring where his kitsune battled the first of his opponents._

_ "Not at all." The small, devilish man grinned up at him, not at all fazed by the bored façade._

_ "Come now, I see the way you look at him…" Beady eyes moved to his right, towards the ring, avidly running up and down. He refused to follow that gaze, as well as give into the urge to rip the offending optics from their sockets—for __**daring**__ to soil Kurama's self by having such a gaze rest upon his darling youko. "He's pretty and powerful… and I know how you like pretty things." Hooded eyes drew back to him, small teeth showing in a fine, irritatingly __**knowing**__ smirk. The taller youkai merely settled his gaze back upon the ring, voice casual if slightly tinny, due to his mask._

_ "I'm certain I haven't the faintest idea as to what you refer." It would do no good to have Ani think he understood how he felt about Kurama. No one could understand—only death could grant them that grace._

: : :

~Two Weeks Earlier~

_Where is he?!_

She was beginning to fret, she knew—she could feel it, could feel that it wasn't helping anything, but was powerless to stop the tidal wave of worry from encompassing her. She could have sworn she'd seen that tree formation, before…

Dispirited, she sank to a seat at the base of one of the trees, lying her head in her arms. She knew she shouldn't despair—Hiei-san was strong, he wouldn't be such a great fighter if he could be killed easily.

Perhaps, then, it was the fact he had run from her, that stung so horribly. She only wished to know him—she had only wished to have known her mother… She only wished to be important, to her family. Hiei-san was dear to her, very important to her… ever since Rui-san had told her the truth of the day of her birth.

Ever since Rui-san had admitted to being the reason Hina-okaasan had gone insane…

She still loved Rui-san, yes, but—upon hearing her mother-figure's opinion that her brother was still alive, somewhere… she couldn't remain on Hyouga. Every part of her soul ached to find a blood-kin, but her father—she had no chance of locating him. Her brother, however, had Hina-okaasan's other birth-hiruiseki. If nothing else, she might be able to find him with her own. It was a terribly scant chance, but she had to try. Her only living family… she could not _not_ try to locate him.

And, in some part of her heart, she was still shocked and dismayed at Rui-san's own society-driven cruelty. To break a promise to Hina-okaasan, and to toss her brother— Yukina shuddered, feeling tell-tale sobs well up in the back of her throat. It was not good, for her to be alone. When she was alone, all of these dark thoughts played at her mind… it really… perhaps, it wasn't so very odd. After all, she was a carbon copy of Hina-okaasan in nearly every way(except her eyes)—physically, mentally and emotionally. When she was younger, she had taken a small solace in the fact that she did not look different from her mother, but for her eyes. If she had appeared too terribly different… she trembled to think what Maiko-san and the other girls would have done to her, then.

"My, my, how sad…" A soft voice echoed out from the trees, and she raised her head, startled. When she saw a figure emerging from the darkness she hurriedly pushed away from the tree, stifling her thoughts and trying to cover her fear as she backed away from them a few steps. The—human!—was tall and broad-shouldered… he couldn't have been pure Japanese. Small eyes that were slanted enough to appear eternally closed were set in his face beneath a smattering of common black hair, his jaw wide and chin long and chiseled. He absently reminded her of Kazuma-san… but when he spoke again she jumped, involuntarily.

"You were searching for your brother, and yet he ran from you when you found him. What a shame…" She felt tears in her eyes, at the comment. How did—?! How did this man _know_ such a thing?? Had he been watching her? Those invisible eyes surveyed her, thoughtfully. She couldn't place why, but… there was something disturbingly familiar about the man, despite the fact she was positive she had never seen him before. She opted for pleading oblivious.

"I… I am sorry, but I am unaware as to what you are—"

"Lying doesn't suit you, Yukina-san." She gasped, bringing a delicate hand to her mouth, eyes widening as she took another step back. The tall man took another forward. How did he… He smiled, and she couldn't help but notice it was almost intimidating.

"Rui-san sent me to find you." A human male?! In Makai—on _Hyouga_?! Impossible—but, he seemed to clear her train of thought with his next easy comment. "Granted, I am human, but I have certain… abilities… that allow me to cross between the worlds as I please." He smiled, and she was again reminded of the image of a predator's sharp teeth. "Would you care to listen to what I have to say?"

She paused—her instincts were telling her to run, that this man could only do her harm… but, then—how did he know about Rui-san? She had never spoken to anyone of her past, before… not even Genkai-shihan, Botan-san, or Touya-san knew of what precisely had occurred in her childhood. She preferred to keep it that way, not wanting to lose her dear friends if they learned of how she had been scorned by her own people. Japanese society was much the same way, after all, and she did not wish to risk losing the acceptance her friends so easily gave. So, she kept her distance as best she could, polite and pleasant by nature, but unerringly tight-lipped about her own issues. After another moment of thought, her trust in Rui-san won out, and she bowed at the waist, one hand curled around the other—clutching the fabric covering her lap—tone soft and polite.

"Thank you for your hard work. Please, do me the honor of divulging what you have traveled so far to say." She didn't quite notice the feral grin sneaking over his face, bowed as she was, with her eyes resting respectfully on the snowy ground.

Rui-san would not send someone who would injure her—who was untrustworthy—to find her.

She was certain of this, at least.

: : :

_Later that night, back in his den, in his forest, once more, he idly fingered the gold and silver trinkets he'd stolen with such ease, at last tossing them carelessly onto a bit of moss off to the side. Linking his arms behind his head with a satisfied murmur, he settled in, gaze momentarily wandering up. It danced across the open entwinements of branches overhead that granted him slivers of a view of the green canopy and skies far above. Smiling lazily, he took a deep breath of the perfumed scents of the deep wood, sighing contently as amber depths at last slid shut, drifting off to sleep in utter relaxation, in his home._

: : :

_Had he known that noble had ties with powerful warlords of many different lands, perhaps he would not have been so rash in his disrespect—nor so quick to give his name and place of residence._

_ Had he been raised in 'proper' society, he might have perhaps understood the ramifications of his actions—from the parents of the children he so enjoyed the company of, and them not wanting their young ones to be influenced by a 'thief' and a 'murderer. The legends and fear he'd originally inspired by killing all malign trespassers on his land had apparently been reawakened, due to the recent showcasing of his lack of morals._

_ Had he known the noble would call in favors upon favors, merely to seek revenge on the fabled 'Youko of Kurama-mori'…_

_ Perhaps he would have not indulged himself in such a 'harmless bit of fun'._

_ As of yet, he was young, though…_

_ He had centuries to learn how vengeful slighted nobles could be._

_ He had centuries to learn how over-reactive protective parents could be._

_ He had centuries to learn how to be careful with his name, until he was so powerful none could stand against him._

_ He had centuries to learn all this, but…_

_ It was all condensed into one sharp, sad, angry loss of a night._

: : :

~One Day Earlier~

School had ended some time ago, but at least one devoted student remained behind. His uniform jacket had been discarded over a chair in the adjoining classroom in favor of not ruining it(no thoughts for the already dirt-smeared white button-up, collared undershirt he wore, the sleeves rolled up to the elbows to minimize the damage). As such, only the infamously-colored trousers gave away that he was, indeed, a legal student of this institution. Although any student or teacher in the academy could have vouched for that…

The wildly red locks were pulled back at his nape in a messy bun. Many escaped the attempt at taming, however, and they jutted out and curled due to the heat of the room. A few sticky strands clung to his cheeks, forehead and neck in the humid air of the greenhouse. True to its name and yet not, plants of all shapes and colors(albeit mostly green, after all) clung to the edges of the small enclosure. Some were tall and reached to the ceiling from the floor, others claimed only small pots dotted around waist-high rectangular tables. Still others twined around wooden brackets leaned against the sides of the completely-glass room, ivy climbing its way up closer to the sunlight that leaked in from overhead. He took a deep breath—and then smiled, gently petting at a leaved vine that was tickling against his temple. Perhaps it was attempting to straighten his hair.

It smelled like dirt, and life, and nature, in here… humid, improbable, lazy_ nature_. It was a far-removed haven from the rest of the school—indeed, the rest of the city, with its crammed trains and streets, masses of people everywhere. This little room was a momentary oasis, and it gave him the lovely excuse to drop in, every day, to 'check on the plants'. They always greeted him with waving vines, a few of the older ones offering up a bit of ki. He refused the bulk of it, as always, taking only the smallest possible amount before returning the favor with his own—his energy was like fertilizer, to them. They would never drain him dry for their own selfish gain, however. His mere presence was enough, but when he could spare it, he boosted them a little. Usually, when he would be gone for a good amount of time…

A frown creased across his face, expression darkening at the memories of the last time he'd had to employ that particular technique. Soft petals dusting over his cheek woke him from the shadowed memories of death and ten-counts. He offered an absent smile to the concerned flower before moving on to the next table. Uncomfortable things…

_Uncomfortable…_

Memory forcibly jarred, at the word, he found his thoughts wandering back to the day before. What on earth… Kanisawa-san was truly a mystery. He could be nothing but human, and yet… there had been something almost familiar about him, yesterday. Something… he could have sworn there was a glint in those brown eyes.

And that—!

Feeling the heat rise to his cheeks once more, he found himself scoffing at(both) the memory and his(current) reaction.

_Really, now… I'm acting like one of those children they call my 'peers'._

And yet… perhaps it wasn't so far-fetched. This body was only fifteen, and in the throes of human puberty… and, after all… it had been rather quiet, as of late. He'd slowly lost contact with Kuwabara-kun and Yuusuke, and all the others of their group, after Hiei had left.

_Hiei…_

He had firmly told himself not to hope, any longer(and had succeeded the past few nights, in at last locking his window). The Jaganshi had been gone for half a year, after rejecting him! He had not so much bothered to drop by! He had, not once, sensed Hiei in the vicinity of Tokyo. Hiei—had not tried to contact him, at all. What sort of friend abandoned people like that?! Frustrated—and caught in the midst of the ever-conflicting war between his emotions and thoughts—he violently jerked the faucet in the large sink on, jamming the watering can beneath it. Steam practically rose from under his head, as he glared at the poor, innocent watering canister as though blaming it for all the fire youkai's failings. …After a few moments, he exhaled a sigh, the grip on the object's handle growing less white-knuckled.

Without contact with any of the members of their small group, it left him very little time to 'be himself'. That is… not 'Shiori's son', not 'the perfect student', not 'Minamino Suuichi-kun'… simply himself. He'd forgotten how rare it was, to find people who accepted him for who he was—'human, mixed with masquerading-fox-demon-in-Ningenkai'—and had only begun to rue the drifting ties, recently. He didn't care much for sharing himself with people he hardly knew… and as Yuusuke and the others faded further and further from 'friend' to 'acquaintance', he was well aware he was distancing himself. He couldn't bring himself to care, too much.

Yuusuke, Kuwabara-kun and everyone else always reminded him of Hiei…

Brought back to the moment, he stared in quiet surprise as he noticed the watering can was overflowing, rather harmlessly(if one ignored the water-waste aspect of it) in the sink. Lethargically, he twisted his wrist and turned off the stream, leaving the heavy container where it was, before going back to potting. It was a familiar, mindless task—taking care of the florae in this greenhouse(as such a thing was a constant in his life, no matter where or what time period he lived in)—and he found himself falling back to a much newer train of thought.

Kanisawa-san. There was something about him that was… Kurama could easily count how many times he'd actually _blushed_ from embarrassment, in his human life. (Other activities where such facial redness was unavoidable excluded, of course.) One of those was yesterday—he shook his head. Why had Kanisawa-san been able to get such a reaction from him? The boy had done nothing original, it was an old gentleman's trick, to treat ladies in such a way, when courting them—

Abruptly, that heat to his face returned. As though he were a lady—it hadn't felt mocking, no… but the look in those eyes. He'd sworn he'd caught a grin, after turning away to try to hide the obvious flush. A glint, a grin… all teasing. Perhaps he was merely too lonely for companionship… yes, that must be it. Kanisawa-san knew he wasn't human—he was a bit sketchy on the details as to how—but the boy _must_ know he wasn't human, to block his reiki from the youko's notice, so well.

To be so cautious about not getting caught—

_He must be very shy._

However, that train of thought clashed horribly with the dark-haired teen's actions, yesterday. Granted, the youth's feelings towards him had been made rather obvious, with that first real 'confrontation', at night, with that old tree, just outside the redhead's house… but—it was as though a shift had occurred. One moment, Kanisawa-san would be blushing, or tongue-tied, the other… smooth and cool, charming with glittering eyes that seemed so familiar. He knew he'd never met the boy, though. For him to be so… weak, against a mere human's amorous advances…

_I truly __**am**__ lonely, aren't I?_ It was a woefully sad thought.

_I am so lonely, I am latching onto the first human who shows an interest… _

The kitsune sighed.

How troublesome(and needlessly complicated) this second life was shaping up to be…

A soft knock at the closed door to the greenhouse stirred him from his thoughts, and he tucked a spare curl of ruby behind his ear—thoughtless to the dirt bathing the digits. He called easily behind him, expecting one of his fellow classmates to need him for something. They too often found something they positively _required_ his help, or opinion, on. As it was, he was quite famous for taking diligent care of the plants in the greenhouse every day after classes had concluded, and thus was too predictable—the resulting disruptions were bothersome, but must be tolerated. Of course, none of this showed through his tone or expression, both light and cheerful as they often took themselves to be, in this school.

"It's open! Douzo!" He heard the soft click of the knob being turned, but couldn't be bothered with turning around, quite yet—he was transplanting a young tree to a bigger pot, as the roots were beginning to get cramped in the too-small space. At the moment of the knock he'd been lugging it out of its previous pot(no easy task, small or not, a tree was still a tree). Now, he managed to hug the plant to his chest, both arms wrapped around the cone-shaped soil buffering the roots from their surroundings. Slowly, he strode towards, then squatted in front of the pot he'd prepared. He carefully aimed for the hole he'd dug in the center of the potting soil before beginning to lower the sapling into its new home. When it was secure enough not to fall over he let it drop, poured a bit more dirt around the top layer, packed it in and at last straightened. Bangs sticky with the combined heat, humidity, and exertion were wiped away from his forehead, a beaming, content expression lighting up his young face. The tiny tree's small leaves waved slightly towards him in thanks, and—having all but forgotten about his visitor—the fox turned to fetch the watering can from its spot in the sink.

He found his lower arm caught by a hand he hadn't seen, and was whipped around—not given time to really register the tingle spreading up from that point of contact. Spare strands of scarlet swayed around his head(most still caught in the messy bun at the back) with the fast movement as beryl hues widened in surprise. For an instant he felt a shot of fear, but it dissipated quickly upon recognizing who was attached to that hand. Notably relieved, the kitsune relaxed a bit, blinking—but cast a slightly curious glance towards the taller teen, nonetheless.

Slender fingers moved towards his face, and the redhead blinked, again—not drawing back, he had no reason to fear the ebony-haired youth, at any rate—as they tenderly moved over his cheek, applying a bit of pressure as though wiping something away. The digits retreated just as slowly as they'd come, and he spied a bit of dirt smearing the ends of them as they rubbed together, as though testing the texture of it. He was too aware as his temperature shot up a few more degrees, in the hot room. He tended to get absorbed in his plants, when he was tending to them, and the amused look Kanisawa-san was sending him only helped confirm the situation. Mirth practically coated the other's tone, as he spoke.

"You have dirt on your face." Green eyes rolled upward with a small huff of a laugh as he tried to dismiss his own embarrassment. He gently jerked his arm from the now-relenting grip, heading for the sink and the paper towels(pausing mentally, a moment, to revel in the irony of that). He washed his hands and wrists thoroughly before wetting one of said towels, and rubbing it over his apparently-soiled visage. Having no mirror in the room, the kitsune turned for an opinion, jade catching sight of his companion with a wry smile.

"…is it better, now~?" Contemplative cinnamon took him in, and he felt another spark coil up his spine at the appraising look… why did it feel that way? Why did Kanisawa-san's gaze have such a… strange effect on him? It was reminiscent, of something—he didn't have much time to puzzle over it, though, as said person was moving, long pale fingers quietly taking the wet towel from his own. The as-of-yet-unused hand rose, cupping the redhead's cheek to keep it still and the kitsune felt another flare of heat spike across the bridge of his nose, to that—

_Curse this human body's hormonally-heightened sensitivity!_

He blamed it on his body's adolescence, as there could be no other excuse for the blush that now painted his face bright red as that cool 'cloth' dutifully swiped at any remaining streaks of dirt he'd missed. Unsure, emerald flicked back and forth, examining the gaze across from him even as it remained stoic and quiet, the hue as unchanging as the calmness emanating from the other.

…He felt light-headed, he realized. It was strange, when Kanisawa-san was like this… he'd only known the boy a few days, but he could tell it was odd. This behavior… it was so different than how the other teen usually was—shy and stuttering, easy to blush. It was a paradox, that the boy could be this calm when in perhaps similar situations he'd seemed rather… uncomfortable. But, then—perhaps it wasn't that atypical, after all. If one were to be a judge of oddness…

As that face drew closer, the kitsune blinked, suddenly—eyes growing wide as that mouth advanced, then disappeared, out of his range of sight only to announce its presence by murmuring against his ear. It was with effort that he stilled the shudder threatening to escape over his frame.

"Now, it's better. You surprise me, Kurama…" The way he said that name… It was frustrating, how familiar that voice was, at times like this. He'd wondered if giving his 'real' name to a human had been wise—wouldn't Koenma be annoyed with the lack of secrecy, for that? …However, the boy had already known he was a demon, hadn't he? Kanisawa-san wouldn't have shielded his reiki if he thought the kitsune wouldn't be able to sense it—

"A-ah…" Somewhere during his train of thought, those lips had moved—not sucking, just the barest brush of contact along the edge of his ear, then down along his jaw. His pulse began to speed, his knees shaking slightly—it was insane, this. That… He didn't have time to think as cool digits brushed over the opposite cheek, the paper towel apparently lost elsewhere as the pad of the thumb arched over his face in a lazy half-circle. Tiers pursed, pressing chaste kisses on the underside of his jaw and then upward until clouded jade could at last latch onto intense copper.

This… it had been so long. So long. So long, since…

Months, and months of pained waiting, then hopelessness, then… It was a strange sensation, not wringing affection from someone. To have it given freely, to be pursued instead of pursuing—tears threatened at the memories, at the conflicts, but he stoically forced them away. The emotion likely showed through, anyway, as he felt his vision blurring before he had to avert it. He didn't get far, though, as fingers gently but firmly angled his face back, and his own startled inhale caught another's exhaled breath in mild shock as he realized the other was a mere hair's breadth from—

"What is wrong, Kurama… ?" The confused words seemed to break the spell he'd been under—and he was brought abruptly aware of their position. Hands that'd wandered, unnoticed, to rest on the other's hips at some point stiffened, drawing back even though one of them was caught at the wrist, preventing that. Thwarted at his attempt at a full escape, the redhead dove under the thick fringe of bangs covering his forehead to hide. He just now realized he was leaning back against the sink, the taller boy as good as pinning him there with his presence, one hand still cupping his cheek as the other held his arm at the joint. The redhead made to try to push him off with his free arm, voice a faint undertone in the quiet greenhouse.

"I… I cannot do this to you." He cursed the weak indecision he felt in his voice, as well as his own lack of control over it, trying to regain something he'd lost with the formal language. A human, of all things—the boy would be put in too much danger if it became known the kitsune had a soft spot for yet another human. Another target. It was ridiculous, anyway—he barely knew this boy, after all—but it was best to keep humans at a healthy distance. He'd done this before, with Shiori… as well as Maya. It should be easy enough, even without resorting to his pollen. The redhead overcompensated for the next comment, steadying his voice to something more resembling its usual tone. Even as there were a thousand other reasons why he should stop what was slowly occurring between them from happening, he settled on the easiest of them all.

"I am not… quite over someone—" Kurama winced, mentally, half-hating himself as his body abruptly ached for the imminent loss of warmth over him. "I cannot be unfair to y—" He gasped as insistent pressure interrupted him, effectively stifling his words to silence. Pale fingers then sprawled over his cheek, brushing against the skin tenderly before slipping around to the back of his neck and playing with a few of the mussed strands. Their lips met—slowly… gingerly—in the ensuing silence.

Warmth. It seeped into him from what seemed to be every crevice, filling his body and he felt his own digits twitch in fruitless response to the light kiss. Jade fell half-shut after initially widening, watching as he was being observed from beneath heavy lashes. A soft sound escaped into the other's touch as the tiers moved against his own. Fingers tightened against the fabric of the front of the other's shirt(where they'd moved, to initially try to push away) as their counterparts curled into air, that wrist of theirs now captured as it was.

The moment was brief, it ended… and, ashamed for his own weakness, the fox bowed his head, once more hiding beneath the shadows of his hair. Lips brushed over his cheek, so he closed his eyes, trying to tune himself away from that voice even as it whispered so calmly, so unerringly simply, to him—

"Yes. You can."

: : :

~Present Time~

The teenager emerged from the bushes, no worse for his excursion except for a few twigs and leaves stuck standing up in his hair. The sun had nearly set, and temperatures were fast approaching unbearable. To sleep in, anyway. There was always the threat of hypothermia to worry about, but he doubted even _he'd_ be dumb enough to sit still long enough to succumb. Cursing, he ran a careless hand through the dark brown locks, narrowing a glare on the device strapped to his opposite wrist.

"Dammit!" He shook the fist attached to the offending technology, throwing back his head bellowing his frustration to the trees overhead.

"It's fucking cold out here, Hiei! Stop messing with me or I swear the first thing I'm gonna do when I find you is punch your lights out!"

"You've gotten lax." The voice caught him unawares, and he jumped nearly a foot before whipping around and stumbling _away_ from the _sword_-wielding Jaganshi scarcely a meter behind him. That was _way_ too far into personal space for someone who had the potential to be both deadly and pissed-off at Yuusuke's sudden 'intrusion on his solitude'. …Power levels not taken into account, he still would prefer not to be found on the business end of the youkai's katana.

"_Shit_, Hiei! …Shit!" He gaped like a fish, for a moment—only partially from various levels of surprise. (One being the fact his yelling had actually brought forth the very demon he was searching for.) Recovering from his shock well, the brunet paused—then advanced on the Jaganshi, pointing rudely at the short demon's nose. (He resisted the urge to actually poke the appendage as it might result in the digit being bitten off.)

"You! Where've you been! Yukina's been worried, Koenma's throwing a fit, Kuwabara… well, Kuwabara couldn't care less, but he doesn't count." A large grin spread over his face at the mild insult towards their mutual acquaintance—and the thought that the tall carrot-top might have just sneezed, quite a distance away, back in Tokyo. Drawn from his musings in a sudden moment of rare insight, sharp roan scanned in a cursory once-over of his friend. It had been half a year since anyone had seen the Jaganshi, after all… Hiei didn't look too bad, but there was something in his eyes that wasn't right. Despite all his teasing, Yuusuke hadn't even received what would often be the customary insult to even a mild mention of others' concern for the fire youkai.

Hiei was only staring at him, countenance utterly impassive and hands tucked neatly away into his black cloak. Red eyes couldn't have been harder, or more shielded. His features couldn't have been tenser(and, as Hiei always guarded his expression, that was saying quite a lot). And if he took the time… were the edges of that fabric fraying and worn? More than they'd ever been, before—the white scarf looked dingy and like it hadn't been cleaned in a while, either.

"Hey…" Breaking the silence that had somehow settled between them—his voice was a notch softer, still rough but he reached out, grabbing the demon's shoulder before he could flit away without a word. Sincere brown stared worriedly into flat crimson, as he leaned a bit closer to eye-level. "…is everything cool? Shit, man… we didn't know what happened." The brunet shook his head, clapping the fire demon on the shoulder, once or twice—yes, Hiei was there. Definitely. Leaning back and straightening to a slouch, the teen ran the hand back through his slicked hair with an expelled sigh—it had been a while, the product was wearing out, and his bangs were in his face. Annoying. But…

"Geez, Hiei… I knew you didn't like us… but we coulda used some warning, y'know?" His lips quirked up in a mockery of his usual teasing smile—steady brown eyes were far too serious for the jab to be a sincere attempt at causing trouble. Six months. Six months of watching Kurama drift further and further away, call them less, drop by less… Six months of watching Kurama isolate himself from everything having to do with Reikai and the Tantei. Six months of nagging, back-of-the-mind worry over two very important members of his team. With Hiei not in contact, Yuusuke hadn't thought he'd be _dead_… but it always was rather unsettling when someone just up and disappeared, without a word and with no correspondence. He'd thought of a lot of things to say to Hiei, perfect wordings and everything to tell him just how his absence had affected the slender redhead, and Yukina—how it had affected all of them… but…

With Hiei standing there before him, unreadable as he had never been before, and looking haggard—even if it was just in lines of stress, the tightened muscles around his mouth or the set line of his jaw—… Something was definitely wrong, and all his meticulous mental rehearsing on the train up here now seemed pointless.

"Hey… " He moved, suddenly wanting some response out of his friend—it was too unlike Hiei not to react, not to have some snarky retort that crushed all opponents as well as a pin popping a balloon. "Did anything—?"

"Yukina." The word was simple, direct, and clipped. Yuusuke blinked, then slowly lofted a brow.

"…yeah? She find you, or something? 'baasan said she left, a while back… searching for her brother, again, and all." He eyed the Jaganshi, quirking that brow a notch higher. "…You can be a pretty stubborn bastard once you've made up your mind, you know."

_Although I guess he has his reasons…_

He could relate, after all. He hadn't wanted to tell Keiko about his job as a Reikai Tantei, wanted to keep her unknowing and safe…

_Yeah, and that blew up in my face like putting that can of tuna in the microwave._

With all the flames, and… yeah. That'd been bad. (Atsuko's newest boyfriend hadn't been happy about her six-year-old son setting off the fire alarm and ruining the interior of his microwave—along with the smoke billowing out of the appliance, which could be seen from a mile away. Ah, and the flames. Can't forget the flames…)

…Argh. Hiei'd gone silent, again. And, with that face—perhaps he was considering…

"You know… if you're going to kill me for 'meddling in your affairs'—" He began in a flat tone, face deadpan—"—or 'questioning your intentions', I'd prefer it be through the head." He tapped the bridge of his nose, to that effect. "Instant loss of consciousness, and all." Was that a slight twitch of lips to a smirk? Yuusuke grinned in response to the barely-noticeable response, and let his hand fall from his face.

"…right. So, we looking for her, or what?" The brunet turned, shoving his hands into his pockets and beginning to sidle off in some random direction, fully expecting Hiei to follow after him. Yuusuke didn't think his friend would run, now—the guy needed help.

"Hn." The tantei paused, mid-step, casting a curious glance back towards his companion—and reacting as though he hadn't heard the snort, at all.

"Hey… shouldn't you be able to find her with your Jagan? That's why you got it, right?" Predictably, his second comment was ignored. He noted that red gaze falling to his wrist. He followed it, only half-surprised when their joint stares fell on the watch strapped to it.

"You're here to try to take me back." Of the few words Hiei'd spoken, this statement was by far the quietest, most challenging and most deadly. Yuusuke waved it off like a duck repels water—quite literally.

"Doesn't matter. If Yukina's missing, we have to find her. Kuwabara'd never forgive me if I just left it up to you." He grinned again, then, oozing irrepressible, rakish charm. "You can come back with me after we find her and listen to Koenma's bitching about your disappearance. That'll be my charge for helping." With a deft movement, he clicked open the small compartment in the youki-detecting watch, and upended it to rid the small space of the lock of Hiei's hair resting within. He palmed a hand towards the silent fire youkai, then.

"Now, '_niisan_—" The inflection of that word was only half-mocking, fingers of that hand making a grabby motion towards their own palm. "—hand over that lock of hair, or teargem, or whatever you've been keeping of hers and let's find your imouto."

: : :

_"Youko-san, Youko-san!" The frantic voice of a child he knew woke him, and he groggily sat up, running a long-fingered hand through platinum locks. It was abruptly seized upon by one of the youth's hands, pulling at him, trying to drag him up._

_ "Mnnn, what is it? Can't you see I'm—"_

_ "Youko-san! They're burning the forest!" The kid's plaintive cry woke him in an instant, and saffron glowed molten death as he raced out of his home, gazing up at the sky—it was clouded with smoke. _

_Fire. The hateful word he'd learned from the village children tasted just as acrid on his tongue as the smell of dying trees did. The forest was silent, the plants were sleepy from the smoke and not screaming, and those on the outer edges must have already been burned. Burned, and killed too fast for them to realize what was happening, and warn the others… _

_A tug on his robe brought his gaze down, spying the tear-stricken face of the youngest boy in his current group of followers._

_ "They're burning them down!" He wailed, hugging the tall, lanky, teenage fox around the waist. "They're burning down all your trees, Youko-san!" The fox pushed the throb of anger from his mind, and gathered up the boy, staring grimly at the sparks framing an eerily-glowing halo into the dark night sky, not-so-far-off, in the distance._

_ Anger. His claws tightened, digging into the tender flesh of the youth's skin and causing a soft cry of pain to work itself from the boy's lips. His ears twitched—listening, listening. No sounds. The trees were silent. Asleep, or dead. The animals were gone. _

_How he could not have noticed them leaving?_

_ He turned, swiftly disappearing from the doorway of the home he had occupied for what felt like countless years(nearly a century, most of it his childhood), disappearing between the trees as a ghostly, silvery figure into the night.  
_

~*~To Be Continued~*~


	11. Omen

Disclaimer: I don't own Yuu Yuu Hakusho, or any of its characters. Those belong to Yoshihiro Togashi-sama, who made a lot more out of them than I ever could have. ^^;; I just do fanfiction for fun, and earn no monetary rewards for writing it. Reviews are, of course, worth as much as silver.

Title: Second Try

Chapter Eleven: Omen

Word Count: 7,500

[Total Word Count: 73,720]

Anime: Yuu Yuu Hakusho

Pairing: HieixKurama, ?xKurama

Warning: Angst, violence, language, shounen ai

Author: Kita Kitsune

Date: Friday(gold-day!), October 16, 2009

Miscellaneous Notes(Tuesday, October 13, 2009): The Yukina parts wouldn't come, so this is a rather Kurama-Youko-Karasu-heavy chapter. D: Sorry. I'd meant for it to be a Yukina-heavy one(I'd had the Karasu/Kurama scene slated for next chapter, even!), buuut… it just didn't want to happen. x.x (On the plus side, perhaps a few of you will enjoy the Karasu/Kurama interaction found here, y/y?)

More Notes(Friday, October 16, 2009): Wai! Finished the chapter(and by brainstorms and broomsticks, there ended up being a good bit of Yukina in it~)! Although with no Internet at least until next week, it likely won't get posted… x.x; Saa! I'll do my best to write more today and Saturday, at least!

Even More Notes(Saturday, November 7, 2009): I rushed this post, a bit—because today marks two years since I joined AFF! :3 As a result, chapter twelve isn't quite finished, yet… and with holidays and the end of the semester looming, I might not get another chapter out until Christmas. x.x I'll try, but I make no promises(even though writing does give me quite a catharsis…). Also: I don't subscribe to NaNoWriMo because… deadlines with writing make me crazy. I'd just end up stressing myself out. D: In addition: this fic would never get finished if I went and tried to type out a 50,000-word novel in the meantime~! My brain would have a hard time adjusting back to fanfiction if I wrote an original work, I think~~

[BlueUtopiah-san, ne, ne, what did you think of the Karasu/Kurama scenes this chapter and last chapter?? They still okay(not OOC or badly written in any way, shape or form)? Happy Belated Birthday('cause I wrote a lot of this chapter around that week... x.o~), too~!]

[SirPsychoSexy-san: Don't kill me if I butcher a certain someone's(Y.O.U.R.) certain favorite pairing, in this fic! I've never, ever written it... and their entering onto the scene just naturally goes with the storyline I've come up with in my head, so... xD Enjoy the randomness of 'more than a mention of' a certain someone's(refer to above parentheses for clarification) certain favorite character(s), at least~? ;3]

So, enjoy this chapter while you can. It may have to tide you over until 2010(hopefully not, but… !). ;.;~

Happy Holidays and such, if I don't post before then~~~ Loves for wishing you all holiday-safety(for Thanksgiving, at least) and the reviews are the loves, too~~ x3

Edit(12/24/2009): Sonofa... I just edited all of the italics(and bold) html out(the 'i' before italicized stuff and the '/i' that shows up after it) and stupidly clicked a link and now I HAVE TO DO IT ALL AGAIN! ;.; I wanna sleep(it's 3:37 AM on Christmas Eve Day and I still have presents to wrap...)

Okay, let's try this again(it's 3:41 AM)! Sorry for no warning for the long wait. I tend to forget you guys are an update behind, sometimes, and I like preserving my original author's notes(and when I wrote Chapter Ten I wasn't thinking what I thought when I wrote Chapter Eleven concerning readers, so...). x.o~ Mou! However, this makes a good Christmas present, eh(or whatever holiday you celebrate :3)~? [As usual, as I update with this chapter, Chapter Twelve is already posted on my AFF page, which is linked to my 'Homepage' site, on my profile, on here!]

Vixen-of-Ice! Special frequent-reviewer bonus~! Give me a pairing(your favorite, perhaps) in YYH and I shall try to write a short(between 100 and 1,000 words) piece on it that I shall post as a oneshot for you. :3 My thanks for reviewing so devotedly(concerning the past twelve chapters. Keep it up for the possibility of another offer in a future semi-random chapter, if you'd like)~!

[Nudgenudge-hinthint-INCENTIVE-for-people-who-don't-review. ;.;~?]

Saa! At any rate, Merry Christmas, _everyone_(even those non-reviewers)! Happy Holidays!

Happy New Year 2010! It's a shiny, brand-new decade(for YYH)~! x3

: : : : : : :

_~Several Months Earlier~_

_"'niichan, 'niichan!" The teen girl just in her first year of high school fluttered about the room, parading her school uniform excitedly in front of her cousin. He didn't give her the reaction she wanted, though—merely cast her a frightfully eerie look that gave her the chills. A moment later it was gone, and she relaxed a little at seeing a slight smile curl up the corner of his mouth._

_ "It is very nice, Tomiko." She continued prancing out, rattling off some prestigious name, no doubt, but he cared not. As long as she was ranting, she would not seek his input—even if it meant watching her frolic around in that god-awful shade. Who came up with such a color for human children entering a higher level of education to wear on a daily basis?_

"_Now you're going to come pick me up from school, today, right? You won't forget?" Her voice sounded uncertain, and he forced a vague curve onto his lips—he wasn't one for smiling. It left a bad taste both in his mouth and on his lips. He truly detested this state of affairs… this human family who had 'taken him in' to 'help him with his sister's untimely death'—among other things—was watching his every move very carefully. It was rare he was alone. What, did they think he would commit suicide over that girl's death? She meant less than nothing to him. Although it was unfortunate that she had died, as it complicated many things—such as police finding his DNA at the scene. Damned ningen sciences. But they could come up with no motive, and his 'family' vouched that he was acting odd, now(likely due to the change in personality from the body's previous owner to himself) and the police ruled that he was in shock, and he couldn't have done it as he had no motive to kill his sister._

_ Other than the fact he had been in a completely spiritual form as he was floating down to her brother, and the sudden movement spurred him on quicker than he would have liked, thinking there was competition for possessing the body. Thus, as soon as he'd entered he'd braced his spirit for a fight, clumsily thrusting the pole at the moving object(being unused to his newly-acquired hands as it were), and dead-on piercing her heart and chest. At that point, he would've liked a soul-snack, to keep up his energy—and perhaps in retrospect he should have stolen her soul and devoured her, to keep any witnesses from surfacing in Reikai. However, at this point—what was done was done. At least she wouldn't be able to recognize him, so it was likely even if she __**did**__ get in contact with someone important in Reikai, the odds of someone up there putting it altogether were rather dim._

_ But, for now he had to go through with this pointless charade. He was never one for children, or family, or such things as were being thrust upon him, now. Also given the point they were human and he very nearly detested every millimeter of their existence, and oh how he itched to kill them… but without his bombs, he only had his own hands and humans had their ways of narrowing down a suspect. Sadly enough, the police department here in Ningenkai did seem rather more competent than its counterpart in Reikai._

: : :

~Two Weeks Earlier~

He led her further away from the openness of the woods, and she did her best to ignore the inkling of trepidation that shivered up her back. Rui-san would not send someone to harm her, of that she was sure. There was no other way this man could have known her name, or of her brother, or of Rui-san unless he had indeed spoken to the koorime. Even though the thought of a human man surviving long enough on Hyouga's climate to contact her was questionable… and it was debatable whether or not Rui-san would have sent for a man to search for Yukina on her own, but—

"We're here." Slightly startled at the abrupt stop, red eyes blinked upon seeing the mouth of a common-looking cave. She turned her gaze to him in polite, unspoken question. He offered her a smile, although it again reeked of unseen fangs. "My… associates and I are in the area, on our own agenda. My finding you here was quite the benevolent coincidence. Please." He gestured to her with the last word, offering her a way in. Bowing gently, a few soft steps had her entering the cave, swallowed up by the darkness as he slipped in behind her, the wards going unnoticed where they were dotted around the stone inside the opening.

: : :

It was some time later that they emerged into the 'cave proper'(if it could indeed be called that), and she smiled upon seeing a few others. There were two young humans, gathered around a 'game console'. Genkai-shihan had had one, at the temple, and Yuusuke-san and Kazuma-san sometimes visited… although, Kazuma-san often lost. Stifling a giggle at the thought of the man yelling at Yuusuke-san in good-humored competition brought a soft smile to her expression, painting over the two boys in front of her—one brunet, one blond—working as a team, together, instead replacing them with more familiar faces.

Her chin fell, a notch. She… had left a letter, for Kazuma-san, explaining her need to leave so suddenly. She felt saddened that his studies had intensified as such that his 'exams' happened to coincide perfectly with when she left. His last visit before she left, she could recall quite well…

_"Yuuuuukiiiiiiinaaaa-saaaan~~~!" Half-covering her initial smile with her kimono sleeve, the koorime turned with warm, half-mooned eyes towards the carrot-top who had just burst in the door, breathing hard from sprinting up Genkai-shihan's stairs._

_ "Kazuma-san! How nice to see you again. Would you care for some tea?" A big, brilliantly honest smile lit up his face and he practically bounded into the room at the invitation, and she set to quietly preparing the leaves for steeping. Genkai-shihan had mentioned something a few minutes earlier about having a visitor, and so she had already begun the usual traditions for welcoming someone. _

_However, she hadn't quite expected…_

_ "Yeah! Your tea is always the best, Yukina-san!" A small warmth colored her cheeks at the compliment, but luckily it went unseen as her back was facing him. Her fingers trembled just a bit as they worked at coaxing hot water from the kettle into the two cups. How would she tell him she must be leaving? He would wish to come with her, that was certain… He was always so nice, but—this was something she must do alone. Touya-san was right. Also, she wouldn't wish to cause trouble for him—she could not abide with making him miss his 'very important' exams, merely for her sake. She nodded to herself, turning with a sweet smile towards her friend, noting only unconsciously, in the back of her mind, how respectfully he sat, straight-backed and politely kneeling, feet tucked neatly beneath his rump with fisted hands on his thighs._

_ "Kazuma-san. Genkai-shihan recently bought some peanut cakes, would you like to… ?"_

_ "Aa! Anything for you, Yukina! I'm sure they're delicious!"_

_ She would never forget the look on his face, when he bit into that first one too rashly, with only his front teeth, and nearly broke them off in the process. He'd howled in pain, and she'd hurried to his side, placing a placating hand on his and explaining it was best to chew them carefully. He'd miraculously seemed to recover from his malady, at that, cheeks lighting up with what she could only assume to be gratitude. She'd smiled only slightly, as his untouched digits rose to tentatively brush against her own where they rested on his fingers holding the cake, oh-so-lightly._

_ "A-Arigatou, Yukina-san. It feels s-so much better, already…" She beamed warmly, to this, squeezing his hand gently in reassurance._

_ "I am glad you are all right, Kazuma-san." Patting the hand, she had then returned to her seat, and they finished their tea and cakes with companionable silence—or the occasional agreeable topic—fluttering between them._

A sigh. She wondered what Kazuma-san was doing, at this moment… perhaps he'd already gotten her letter? Perhaps he had found time to visit Genkai-shihan in the two months that had passed—she had not told him where she was heading, to search. However, Genkai-shihan knew, and so if there was a real emergency the elderly Reihado master would divulge the koorime's whereabouts(in the general direction of Hokkaido) quite easily.

"This is Yukina-san. She will be staying with us for a while." Blinking out of her thoughts, she quickly covered her embarrassment at not listening, bowing lowly at the waist to the pair of boys. Although something seemed strange about that statement…

"Yoroshiku onegai itashimasu. It is an honorable pleasure to meet you."

"Kochira koso, for us, as well…" They echoed the customary response in quiet murmurs, watching as she straightened gracefully from her bow, smiling slightly at them both in the silence that followed. The little brunet spoke up, first.

"Hey, Yukina-'neesan!" She canted her head sweetly towards the child, in demure question.

"Yes?"

"You're a youkai, ain'tcha!" The ice demoness blinked, then smiled a hint softer, nodding slightly.

"Yes. I am a koorime."

"Eh?" He stared at her, confused. Kindly, she simplified the term for him.

"A demon who controls ice."

"Oooooh…" He nodded… then stopped, blinking up at her with a child's wide(purple, she noted with some curiosity) eyes.

"Like Mr. Freeze, from Batman?!" Blink, blink. She'd never quite heard of him…

"I… I'm sorry, to whom do you refer?"

"Mr. Freeze!" He said the name again with impatience this time, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring up at her. "You had to have heard of Mr. Freeze, 'neesan! He's almost as famous as Lex Luther!" Another name she didn't know… Sweatdropping mentally(and warmly thinking how strikingly this boy reminded her of Kazuma-san, in his honest straightforwardness), she hid her embarrassment(and faint amusement), covering her mouth with the cuff of her sleeve.

"I… ah… No, please excuse me—I have not been living in Ningenkai long… I do not know of him…" He huffed, waving his hands about before shoving them moodily into his pockets and stomping back to his video games.

"You'll have to excuse Amanuma-kun…" A timid voice broke into her thoughts, and she blinked gently at the soft-spoken, blond-haired boy peering at her with bright blue eyes from under his curls. His face was mostly hidden under the fleecy yellow hood that matched the rest of the sweatshirt. It looked as though he was attempting a smile, but he looked rather uncomfortable… Yukina smiled at him, as though to impart a bit of warmth to the nervous youth.

"It is all right. I am afraid I do not know Ningenkai culture that well, after all…" She gently bopped herself on the head with a small, delicate fist, and he laughed, anxiously edging away from her and back towards the television.

"A-Ahh, yes… well… it was very nice to meet you, Yukina-san, but please excuse me—" He practically scurried back over to the couch they'd been using to play on, squirming down into the cushions and likely taking up a controller. She gazed after him, crimson oculars growing clouded with pensive concern. That boy was troubled… he seemed a bit too meek, or unstable. Perhaps, she could—

"That was Mitarai." A voice in her ear caused her to jump, and she turned to see the man who had led her inside leaning over her shoulder, and smiling at her. Even though it was a smile, it still seemed rather…

"Ah. I see. Thank you." Out of habit, she returned the smile. He nodded at her, and withdrew, waving an opened hand to indicate another passageway at the far end of the large interior cavern with his palm.

"The two others that live here are in another room—you'll see them, later. They are occupied at the moment, and we best not bother them." She nodded, quietly stepping after her guide as he continued to speak. Yes, of course, she wouldn't wish to be any trouble… He stopped at the beginning of another passage, bowing slightly and indicating she should go ahead of him.

"It it nothing special, but I have prepared a room for you, this way…" The koorime was—a bit surprised, at that… but in the end, she could not refuse such efforts of hospitality. She bowed deep, thanking him before going on ahead, unseeing as he stealthily slapped a few intricate wards around the edge of this entrance, as well, before following her into the obscurity of the crude hallway.

: : :

Bright azure peeked over the couch as the two figures disappeared into one of the lengthier passageways. Sounds from the screen in front of him were suddenly loud—flashing lights and a buzzer announced he'd lost, and the blond boy sighed, going to reset the game.

"Why do we have to play this same game, again and again, Amanuma?"

"Because! Sensui-san said I need to practice this!" The loud response made him flinch, and he flopped back onto the couch, squirming back into the cushions as though to disappear. The game began again, and he found himself absently musing aloud.

"Wonder why… Makihara brought home a girl." A derisive snort sounded next to him.

"It's obvious, isn't it? He's bored. We all are. There's nothing to do, up here. …Aaaaaaahhh, I wish there was an arcade around!" The kid complained, effortlessly pressing buttons in a dizzying sequence that left Mitarai's character sprawled on the ground in yet another defeat. The blond tried not to let it get to him—even as Amanuma continued to complain.

"'ttaku! I've played all these games hundreds of times, beaten each of them at least fifty, and…" He gave an obnoxiously arrogant sigh, then. "I guess it's my fault, I'm just too good for these games, there's no challenge anymore…"

"That is about to change, Amanuma-kun." The voice had adverse reactions—the younger brunet straightened and glanced over his shoulder, a happy grin on his face as two of the older members of their immediate group strolled quietly into view. The blond flinched, however, looking jarred at the abrupt interruption as he nonetheless cast a hesitant smile up towards the taller man. The broad-framed elder smiled down at them, face a mysterious mask above the loose-necked black long-sleeved shirt he wore. A single dot took up residence in the middle of his forehead, giving him a vaguely Indian appearance. Behind him, the elegantly robe-clad form of a teal-haired demon hovered over his shoulder. His gaze was quietly reserved—but even from this distance it was obvious his attention was focused utterly on the man he accompanied(even when not actively looking at him).

"Really, Sensui-san?!" A low, mildly foreboding chuckle echoed out amidst the cave's interior.

"Yes… you will soon have the chance to play at your very best."

: : :

~One Day Earlier~

He was still slightly certain he was wandering in a daze. Kanisawa-san was a shadowy presence by his side, quiet and slightly intimidating in the dusky twilight. Mother was used to him coming home, late—on particularly stressful days, she knew her son tended to spend more time, alone, in the greenhouse. Now and then she chided him gently—suggested softly that he call up Yuusuke-kun or Kuwabara-kun, spend some time with old friends. She'd done this for months, now, ever since…

_Ever since Hiei left…_

He shook his head, the faint movement causing a gentle rustle in the area of the secluded sidewalk they strode over. It was all so… very strange, now. Absently, fingertips wandered up, tracing over his lips, the kitsune having all but forgotten he had company. A quiet touch stirred him from that, and he jerked, startled emerald falling on his companion. Sienna oculars watched him, silently, the digits that had carefully touched his shoulder withdrawing just as noiselessly as they'd come. The redhead managed a reassuring smile, canting his head just slightly as an indication that they should continue on, it was of no issue, and he settled his eyes on the road ahead, once more.

: : :

He could feel Kurama's very pulse, now. The lines that drew them together were bonding, bright red entwining with darker black as the third seal settled into full effect, linking their lives. It was… curious, this. He no longer quite saw the kitsune as he had, before—it was as though there was a faint glow around him. Perhaps it was merely a manifestation of Kurama's energy… yes, that would make sense. After all, now that their lives were bound inextricably together, it followed logic that they would appear different to one another… so long as they were aware of the change. The crow chuckled silently, to himself, tongue idly testing out to catch any lingering taste of his fox on his lips. That had been… rather enjoyable. Of course, it was still mildly irritating that he could not really do _all_ that he wished, but if he had nothing after these months of waiting, he had patience. That wasn't to say it was the same as control… It had been delicious, how easily the kitsune had given into him, how yielding even with those ineffectual protests staining his lips—

Violet flashed deep within his gaze, and before he'd really registered it he'd walked forward, grabbed the fox's arm above the elbow and pulled him into a darkened alley. Beryl hues bore up on him in slight surprise, glimmering fetchingly in the dark—but there was something marring that gaze. Instead of pure lust, desire, there was a haunting sadness watching from within. The reincarnated demon forced himself not to rush the matter. Perhaps it was out of habit, caution until the last of his seals had been administered. At any rate, he only moved to pin the arm he held to the wall of the alley, leaning until his forehead rested on soft carmine bangs, the movement pressing the redhead's back up against the wall of the alleyway. Jade bore up on him, shimmering still in the dying lamplight that barely reached into these shadows. His voice escaped, low and dark—intimidating, almost, in the obscurity.

"Kurama. What is wrong." That look… he could stand terror, could stand hate, could revel in them both, but this—this draining sorrow was so _annoying_. He didn't spare a moment to think of the absurdity of the situation—_he_, of all people, _caring_ about the kitsune's state? But it wasn't really caring, no—the fox would be far more pliable, more accepting of his will if he coated his orders in a simulation of kindness, and patience. Acting as any smitten human would over an infatuation, it was the perfect cover…

The kitsune tipped his head away, gazing so tragically into the night that for a moment he had no choice but to admire the slender line of his neck. His jaw—that pale skin nearly glowed against the shadowy depths they'd crawled into. When no answer seemed forthcoming, he leaned forward, lips resting on the exposed line of throat to one side of the fox's jugular. He heard a breath catch, and repressed the grin that wanted to sneak out onto his face. So simple, this… Kurama would think it was chance, would perceive this resting place as innocent coincidence. He would dismiss the very demonic implications of having a threat resting at one's neck, simply because he believed his admirer to be wholly human… How quaint. The would-be teen murmured quietly against the warm scent of greenery that infused that skin in more than one obvious way.

"Kurama. You needn't concern yourself with injuring me…" Oh, how ironic that statement was—but again he resisted any true reaction, tipping his head as digits released the other's elbow, trailing down along his arm. Fine tips circled around the wrist as heavy lids fell, slivers of dark intent going unseen from where they rested. His free hand itched for contact, as well, and it found itself sliding over the slight curve of one of the kitsune's effeminate hips, tugging at the still-dirtied white button-up undershirt tucked against his waistline. "I'm not fragile, I won't break…"

A small sound of dismay whined from the redhead's throat, and he kissed where he felt the source of the vibration. Nearly-closed optics still watched closely as the kitsune tilted his head back towards his companion, emerald vaguely clouded but still clear, coherent as those petal-soft lips parted in token defiance.

"K-Kanisawa-san… it—you don't understand, it's not—"

"Oh, isn't it?" That breath was cool, as he nosed into the kitsune's neck, drawing another quick, surprised inhale from the one beneath him even as the slender youth's chin rose to accommodate. Oh, the redhead was so fetching, like this. Permitting him to go so far, merely because he was under the misconception of 'Kanisawa-san's true identity. It was exhilarating, and—like an addict—once he'd had a taste, he couldn't get enough. His next exhale was translucent, heavy with long-repressed desire.

"Kurama… Your concern for my well-being is so… very—"

_Ironic?_

Teeth grazed the youko's throat and a shudder woke him to the fact he was all-but-bodily pinning the fox against the wall—but there was that strange, yielding acceptance, again, and he purred low in his throat as a faint whimper graced the air around them.

"…endearing." He finished the sentence with a warm murmur of intent. It was worth it, for he'd said it(or something like it) before, but it had been so long ago—and here, it counted for so much more, especially when it made the kitsune's breath hitch in surprise, so he drew back enough and cloaked his heady violet gaze into brown. He allowed only the quiet sincerity of the phrase to ring within the sienna-hued eyes as grass-green ones locked onto them a moment too late to notice the shift in color.

The fox was staring, and it was painfully tempting—a slight flush had dared color those fine cheekbones, lips parted only slightly as far too many emotions swam in the verdant depths. Of their own accord, pale fingers rose from the fox's waist to caress his cheek, a close, wordless murmur breathing in the air between them. He gazed seriously into the eyes that had graced his thoughts far too many times to count, forehead again cushioned on crushed, darkened scarlet fringe. A wry grin tugged at a corner of his mouth as the kitsune still stared at him, speechless—until he could resist it no longer, and he leaned with the intent to capture those stunned lips—

"I assure you, it is not needed. _Trust_ me…" He'd paused just a hair's breadth away, giving the fox the illusion that he could withdraw from the contact if he truly wished to. As though if Kurama did not 'trust' him, he would not move forward and press any contact that was unwanted. To say, those beckoning tiers mere millimeters away were hard to resist… Darker depths watched his prey beneath their lids, a slender thumb tracing along the apple of his beloved's cheek in an aimlessly repetitive motion. He was patient, for a few moments after that—intently watching and identifying each emotion as it flitted through the kitsune's expression. So easy to read…

He was, yet, not expecting slim, elegant digits to abruptly curl around his own—he'd nearly forgotten they rested around the fox's wrist in a loose hold—and the slight, tentative brush of lips against his mouth as the kitsune raised his chin, to accommodate their difference in height. It was… strange. He'd never expected the fox to voluntarily respond to his actions—it was something quite opposite from the reaction he'd expected. As it was, there was a moment where his own expression must have mirrored that look of shock, because watchful verdant depths crinkled at the edges, and a chuckle bubbled out from between the contact of their lips, tasting the air.

"Ah, there it is…" It was a voice lit with warmth and fondness, and his own reaction-time was further put off by the surreal quality of it. An arm wrapped around the back of his neck, pulling him down and he was absently aware of the redhead arching into him. As a result, his fingers tightened as playful hips brushed against the pressure that'd gathered in his groin, the following teasing line of words gentle enough, their lips brushing with every utterance. "I was beginning to wonder when you'd start acting like the '_endearingly' young_ human you are…~" It was a teasing purr, and the crow felt his own eyes narrowing at the barb. That reaction only further lit the amusement in the jade hues below, though.

"You—" A light laugh interrupted his affronted curse, and soon enough he had the kitsune pinned fully against the wall, again, silencing that rebellious mouth with his own. There was no pretense, this time, simply a foraging of the area past those quirked tiers in search of both silence and more of that intoxicating flavor. The redhead hummed against him, and that naughty tongue slid away so he gave chase, purring in smug response as one of his own hands wandered down, cupping and molding one of the perfect globes concealed beneath the seat of the other's pants. A sharp gasp interrupted their kiss, with that, digits curling further around paler ones in their grasp as the fox groaned in the aftermath, hips canting upward against his own as those talented fingers massaged the firm flesh. Teeth flashed in a grin as he took the initiative once more, delving past kiss-swollen lips to continue with the worship. A muffled sound greeted that, and he was treated to the lovely sight of jade husking further as he ground into the effeminate hips below. It earned a soft cry as the kitsune's head tipped back—and he felt a hard resistance pooling behind the innocuous appearance of the magenta slacks.

He chuckled, low and dark, affixing teeth to the other's neck and biting into supplicant flesh. Oh, it was everything he could want—although it was lacking in terror, but that could come later—Kurama entreating him with his body to continue. Movements that shouldn't've been graceful and yet were coated every shift of his head, his arms, his body… It was all too much like an eddy, sucking him in to destruction but it was so breathtaking a demise, how could he refuse… ?

"You're—" _Sin incarnate. _It shouldn't have been rasped, and yet it was, his own patience unraveling with each additional point of contact and this time _he_ was interrupted. Momentarily, he gave himself over to the reinstated kiss, eyes falling shut as he accepted the fierce challenge, tongue warring and rubbing against the invading one until he defeated it enough that it took the time to flee. He pursued it, swallowing a low groan of his own as Kurama whimpered for air beneath him. He didn't allow it, just yet—he shoved that wet muscle inside the ambrosia-like cavern, damp and hot and they battled for air and with one another until their lungs burned, fingers clenched enough for nails to be painful against skin or fabric. At last, they broke apart, panting and gasping in each other's breaths as neither wished to withdraw completely, hazed and dusky chocolate with glimmers of darker purple devouring seductive jade…

It took all his willpower not to throw the fox to the ground, in this instant, violate and rape him until he cried, begged to be taken again and again and again, screaming out his assailant's true name in harrowing realization as—

Gentle fingers on his cheek stirred him from the fantasy, and he snapped his once-more cinnamon gaze to the other's. Emerald was clearing, concerned… He attempted to shake off the erotic visions, instead leaning to press lips to the other's forehead in lieu of a vocal reassurance. They remained like that, for a while… not moving, simply drawing in each other's presence and the abrupt change that had fallen between them, allowing their thoughts to wander over various musings—until that soft, melodic alto broke their silence.

"'kaasan… will be worried. We should continue on—" Simple and effective, it broke the spell over them and he idly offered a nod, withdrawing from where he'd pinned his beloved, beautiful fox to the gritty wall of the alley. He was forced to pause, though, when warm fingers would not relinquish his own. The taller youth offered an idle glance toward the kitsune, but found his attention drawn as the smallest of smiles dared twitch at the redhead's lips. Both of the other's hands wrapped around the captured one of his own and brought it to that enticing mouth. Kurama scarcely touched the back of the slender knuckles with a mimicked motion of feathery, warm lips. The unspoken sentiment behind the action echoed in his eyes, although the silence remained to consider the air between them.

: : :

~Present Time~

"You call that Jagan _useful_? Geez, man, you need to go see an eye doctor or something…" The complaining was not well-tolerated, the responding tone a touch too frosty to be a harmless jab.

"And you, the '_detective_'. What use is that device if it cannot locate who you are searching for!"

"It's the same problem, isn't it~?" It was a jeering reply, smug brown sliding to smirk into angered red. Offhandedly, he tapped the face of the 'watch' on his wrist. "—'sides, you could fool it, way back when. What makes you think they'd really have made it better?" A snort greeted that—until he suddenly stopped. The brunet teen didn't quite notice this, at first—or perhaps he did, as a few paces ahead he drew to a halt without turning around, eyes darting from side to side.

"…something wrong, Hiei?" Silence. He hadn't really expected a response, but…

"The wind."

"Wha—?" A dark flicker of air, and they were suddenly standing atop one of the thinnest, gangliest pine trees he'd ever seen—much less _stood_ upon!

"Waah! Hiei! You bastard! Give a guy some warning—"

"There." Raising his head from where he clung to the top of the bristly branches, chocolate orbs narrowed slowly upon seeing something out of the ordinary.

"Hey… that sunset don't look right, do it?"

"Fool." He mustered for a response, but the Jaganshi kept on while ignoring his sarcasm. That crimson gaze was locked to the strange, huge dark bubble over the crackling horizon a ways in the distance. It hovered over the woods—warped and darkened the clouds overhead, twisting them into a downward spiral over one part of the vast forest like a ghoul. Electricity and something unmentionable crackled in the air like dynamite, prone to combustion with just the right spark…

"It's not the sunset. It's a portal. The wind here has the comfortable scent of home…" It wasn't like Hiei to sound so nostalgic, and Yuusuke found himself mildly disturbed when that tone continued in its calm, peaceful cadence, slipping to something almost dreamy with the ongoing comment.

"Of freshly spilt blood and death…"

"…You've got some seriously messed-up sense of what's 'comfortable', Hiei."

: : :

_Fury. It pulsed within him, drew his eyes to slits, glowing embers of amber fire._

_ The mother was hidden behind the door, but moreso behind her husband, clutching the boy who had warned him so kindly, to the front of her apron._

_ "I have taught your children the ways of the wood. I have taught them of healing herbs and medicines, of salves." His own voice sounded a hiss. "I have, against my better judgment, allowed them into my domain and let them come back to you, unscathed, countless times. For all of this, you will not help me?"_

_ The bearded demon was firm, raising his chin, and as it was he yet-towered over the adolescent silver kitsune._

_ "That's right, Youko. We don't need a murderer and thief teaching our kids such things! Who cares if your precious forest is burned down! With that gone, and with it the source of all your power, this entire town would be better off! We could revitalize the city, start the horse trade, again, with the land your forest takes up!" The adolescent demon grit his teeth internally, forcing instead a smooth smile out onto his lips, flaxen oculars glinting, cooling into blades of saffron rage._

_ "…I see. Your entire town would be better off, would it? Then perhaps I've no need of your town, either." Here he turned, striding away down the road and into the heart of the city. He flexed his claws and closed his eyes, calling upon the stores of youki he'd gained over the decades—it wasn't much, compared with the power he would gain over the next millennium, but it was enough, at least, to destroy this ungrateful town and all its inhabitants. Demons. They were useless, foul little vermin who only cared about themselves. He had no use for them—and as for the forest, for his forest, on fire… he did not have nearly enough stones to put it out, and without the help of the townsfolk he had so stupidly come to trust, over the past few decades…_

_ Better it all die._

_ He strode into the night, seeds and plants germinating deep beneath the dust-coated, dead ground. They rose up as specters glowing fiercely around him, in intimidating and venomous shadows that killed everything that moved, releasing a pollen that put the entire city to sleep, venting their master's anger on the world that had betrayed him. For the second time, he was so foolish as to place his hopes in living beings, be they foxes or demons. They destroyed every inch of the city as his precious trees were burned away while the night raged on, his own revenge just as silencing and deadly as the flames that engulfed the lush groves._

: : :

~One Day Earlier~

She was not worrying. She was preparing dinner. She had been preparing dinner for the past few hours, but, really, she wasn't worrying. Suu-kun had always told her not to worry. Taking a slow breath, the woman calmly continued cutting up the daikon for the soup, tonight. He was always a little late, coming home from school. He tended to the greenhouse plants, didn't he? That was likely what was keeping him. Yes, yes. He had lost track of time, and the reason he was so late was because—

Relief flooded through her as she registered the key working in the lock of the front door, and she hurried from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron and anticipating the soon following after utterance of—

"Tadaima, 'kaasan!"

"Okaeri, Suu-kun!"

He toed off his shoes in the genkan, lifting his head and offering a smile in his mother's direction as she appeared at the end of the hall, her answer just slightly preceding her. Stepping up into the house, he laid his bag by the side of the hall and—blinked, as the brunette apparently noticed something outside their front window.

"Suu-kun, what is…" She quietly advanced towards the window by the door, peering out of it into the semi-darkness. There was a figure standing on the sidewalk, just across from the door. He was moderately tall, an arm crooked as though he held a cell phone to his ear. Curious, she cast a glance back to her son, slightly perplexed. "Suu-kun, is that a friend of yours?" The way he smiled, slightly abashed, told her all she needed to know and she narrowed her eyes at him, playfully swatting his arm.

"Suu-kun! You should invite him inside, we can't have a friend of yours standing out there in—" Her voice trailed off as a limousine pulled up right in front of the shadowy figure, and she saw he turned, paused as though noticing he was being watched, and offered a faint wave before sliding gracefully into his car, as the driver held the door open for him. Astonished—she'd never seen a limousine on their street, before!—she looked to her son, lips slightly parted. This one was so different from the other boys Suuichi brought home… He laughed, gently, at her expression, smiling absently as he shook his head.

"'kaasan, that was… Kanisawa-san. He couldn't stay." _Kanisawa?_ "He's a… recent friend of mine."

"From school?" It was an automatic question, she always wondered why—but he waved it off, smiling once more.

"Well… no. It was a chance meeting."

"I see…" She mused over that, for a moment. Wasn't the president of her company a Kanisawa? She could have sworn she'd heard that surname, before—sighing in exaggerated exasperation, she teasingly swatted her son's shoulder as she stepped up from the genkan and into the house proper, casting him a chiding glance from the corner of one dark eye as she passed him and headed down the hallway.

"Well! Next time, invite him in, Suu-kun! You know I always love meeting your friends." The smile she gave him after that was warmly beamed over her shoulder, and she was aware of her son's slightly nervous shift before he nodded, murmuring an assent as he followed her back to the kitchen. Oh, yes. She wouldn't allow her son to keep secrets from her, _too_ much~!

It's not as though anything he did could ever truly disappoint her, after all.

: : :

~A Few Hours Later~

He sighed. The meal had been pleasant, with only the two of them, as was per usual. The Hatanaka and Minamino families were becoming better acquainted, but the process was slow, and as such they still spent many suppers in their own homes. Turning over on his side, in the bed, he gazed quietly out at the silhouette of the tree bordering his(locked) window. A faint smile pulled at his lips, recalling the other night, when he'd 'caught' something with that tree.

Rolling onto his back, the kitsune stared silently at the ceiling. It was… nice, to be wanted again. It was—interesting, to not always be the pursuer, and to have one chase after him, for once. For most of his life it had been that way—Yomi, Kuronue, nameless, countless others—and Hiei had been the exception to them all. Lashes moved, fully obscuring the dark room from his view.

Human infatuations were so fleeting… Kanisawa-san would likely get his fill, soon enough, and move on. Humans lied, just as demons did. They professed things, without ever really thinking of their consequences. It was a sad truth, and it only seemed void in light of conditions concerning 'family love'.

_Unconditional…_

Needless to say, it did make him feel better. It promoted his sense of self-worth, which had been sorely lacking, in recent months. It gave his ego a boost that he could still draw admirers in(a trait he thought he'd given up after his reincarnation), or some such thing. Rolling once more, he snagged the pillow from its place by the headboard and curled around it, exhaling into the cushy softness.

It was best, to not become accustomed to this. He had warned Kanisawa-san, that he wasn't quite over someone else, and that it would be unfair to continue this. The boy had pushed ahead, single-mindedly, regardless of his protests. A slight smile tugged at his expression. Typical human teenager—not thinking ahead into the emotions involved, only interested in satisfying his spur-of-the-moment hormonal urges and fickle passions. Well… he couldn't blame him. His own body was in the pubescent shift, too, after all—burrowing his face into the cushion, he released another ragged breath, refusing to allow the tumultuous haze of conflicting emotions drag him down.

It would be fine. He would let this relationship run its course, and prepare himself for the quick end that would follow the faulty promises. Humans were so flighty… but he could at least take comfort in the 'love-that-was-not-love' while it was there, take solace in the fact he need not hide his demonic heritage from at least one person. It would help keep him sane for a little while, perhaps—and prepare him for life, for moving on, at last.

It was, truly, the healthiest thing he could do for himself at this point—unresolved issues involving a certain hiyoukai notwithstanding.

: : :

~Present Time~

"Botan!" She jumped, startled out of her listening state as he addressed her so succinctly, flaxen gaze narrowed and intent upon the two ghosts 'sitting' before him. The demi-god did not turn to face her, even as he belted out orders in a curt voice.

"Bring me the list of youkai souls collected on the last day of the Dark Tournament. You." He gestured at the purple oni wringing his hands on the other side of the door—the ogre straightened respectfully, drawn taut as a clothesline in one instant. (Nevermind the fact Koenma-sama hadn't bothered to face him while speaking, either.)

"Yes, Koenma-sama?!"

"Bring me the records of all youkai who died during the final rounds." They knew to what he referred, mentioning it further would be a waste of time. However, the purple-skinned oni voiced their mutual surprise at the request.

"A-All of them? But, Koenma-sama, that's the end of the Ankoku Buujutsukai—hundreds of demons died, especially after Toguro began attacking the audience—"

"Did I stutter?!" Koenma barked the reiteration of that previous demand, angered amber at last settling harshly on the hapless employee. "Just do it! I want those records here in twenty minutes!" They were shocked into stillness at the ardor of his tone—until he rounded on them both, then, displaying his back to the two spirits and suddenly acting every bit the spoiled godling he could be, at times, gaze serious and uneasy despite his testy and impatient tone.

"Time is a factor! Kurama's life could be in danger! I need those records _yesterday_!"

"H-hai, Koenma-sama!" The blue-haired ferry girl and purple ogre scurried out of the room, a pop in the hallway outside telling them that Botan had summoned her oar to better navigate the crowded halls of Spirit World. When the door fell shut, lengthy digits moved to pinch the bridge of his nose just beneath the telltale "Jr" sign on his forehead. He dropped them after a moment, turning back to the two ghosts yet remaining in the room, the man's face somber and quiet, the girl's lifted into one of fright.

"Now, slowly. Minamino-san—if you could please tell me again what you have observed Kanisawa Takashi doing, at night… Could they have possibly looked like seals?"

"Well… I've never seen a seal, so I couldn't know…" The spirit rubbed his chin thoughtfully, shifting only slightly to accommodate the preteen girl yet clinging to his arm, who was settled at his side. "But… it looked like old writing. Cursive, grass-roots kanji, almost. Hard to read."

Koenma let out a slow, would-be calming breath.

No. Really. Kurama wasn't in danger. It couldn't be _that_ youkai.

They'd collected his soul—right?

And yet…

_No other demon was so fixated on Kurama as him… no other demon fits the profile…_

The brunet godling prayed it wasn't him. He prayed that his single overlook of a seemingly run-of-the-mill occult ceremony victim meant nothing. He prayed Botan would return with the list of souls collected, and that crow demon would be at the top of the list(he'd been the first to die that day, after all, right?).

It couldn't be him… the odds were far too predictable, but—

If it was…

_If it __**is**__ him… !_

He'd let this go on for far too long, already. Who knows what the deranged youkai could have been doing—or had already done—to Kurama, in the months past…

_It can't be him._

He would continue to tell himself that, at least until he had undeniable proof that that demon's soul was not accounted for.

_Hurry, Botan._

: : :

_ Morning rose red, painting the altered scenery with stark clarity as the light grew._

_ Where Kurama-mori had been, there was only a charred, seemingly-infinite expanse of dead dirt._

_ Where Kurama-machi had been, there was an endless, entangled jungle of poisonous, blood-sucking plants._

_ The warlords left, their favor having been dutifully accomplished._

_ The few townspeople that survived the night(only a few children, curiously enough), shivering and terrified, retreated to other towns, spreading the word._

_ Kurama-mori, "Saddle-Horse Forest", and Kurama-machi, "Saddle-Horse Town", were no more._

_ Youko Kurama was baptized within the ashes and blood that coated their graves._

~*~To Be Continued~*~


	12. Threat

Disclaimer: I don't own Yuu Yuu Hakusho, or any of its characters. Those belong to Yoshihiro Togashi-sama, who made a lot more out of them than I ever could have. ^^;; I just do fanfiction for fun, and earn no monetary rewards for writing it. Reviews are, of course, worth as much as silver.

Title: Second Try  
Chapter Twelve: Threat  
Word Count: 7,265

[Total Word Count: 80,985]

[The AFF version of this fanfic reached 1000 hits on Friday, December 25, 2009~!]

Anime: Yuu Yuu Hakusho  
Pairing: HieixKurama, ?xKurama  
Warning: Angst, violence, language, shounen ai

Author: Kita Kitsune  
Date: Monday(moon-day!), October 26, 2009

Miscellaneous Notes(Sunday, October 18, 2009): Aaaaaaaaand, we have plot movement~! xD

More Notes(Sunday, November 22, 2009): Aaaaand, the chapter's finished. Hurrah, hurrah~! Now I just need to write the next one and I'll be able to post this by Christmas, for you guys! :3

Even More Notes(Sunday, December 6, 2009): Tweaked a little due to Sekah-san's comments. :3 …Ah, also! I started this fanfic a year ago, and now it's up to twelve chapters(first chapter posted on Monday, December 8, 2008)~! That makes me happy. Maybe I'll slow down to mere monthly updates, after this. But oh, so happy. Twelve chapters for twelve months(I luff the number twelve, too)~! x3

Yet More Notes(Thursday, December 24, 2009): Aaaaaaaand, Chapter Thirteen's not done, but almost, so I decided to make sure I posted this when I said I would. :3 Hope you all enjoy this new chapter. I've found time to write again(just a little, but I hope to get a lot done before the end of the holidays! I'm trying to write every night, but I'm still burning DVD(movies) for people and wrapping presents, so that might not happen, tonight...). Hopefully the writing's gotten better, thanks to Sekah-san's constructive criticism(watch for the lack of ellipses~! I edited most of them out, I think!), although I'm still a little leery on some things(like the Yukina scenes)… x.x~

Especially Pointless Additional Notes(Sunday, January 24, 2010): Hello there~! First post of the new decade and year, here on FF. :3 Thanks again to vixen-of-ice for the continuous reviews--I'm thinking about your gift-fic, I haven't forgotten it, it's just been bouncing around in my head and I need to narrow the ideas down a bit, and it'll all be good.

Happy Valentine's Day, if I don't post by then~! Ah, and posts are now on a by-monthly basis(no, that's not a typo. One chapter per month, due to my new school/work/girlfriend schedule!).

: : : : : : :

_"It was stupid of you to go that far." The words that greeted him were flat, and echoing out in a low, irate baritone from where their bearer sat, cross-legged on one of the twin beds in their hotel room. Garnet eyes were narrowed, watching him with something almost akin to anger as the kitsune quietly closed the door behind him. The left sleeve of his tunic was all-but-dangling from spare torn pieces of fabric off of most of his shoulder and arm. The long, ugly gash that had housed a deadly vetch sprout was unseen beneath a heavy padding of gauze held on with medical tape. Thankfully, there were no vines coiling out of the wound from behind the bandage._

_ "Oh… ? Was it? I wasn't aware I had a choice in the matter…" That tone was light, almost nonchalant as the redhead strode to his dresser, slowly undoing the hidden clasps down his front as he went. When this was finished, he made to untie the purple sash around his middle. He paid no mind to the red gaze that followed his every movement with intense scrutiny—Hiei wasn't known for his social prowess, perhaps the Jaganshi didn't know quite how rude it was to stare as someone undressed. _

_Not to mention, Kurama would be a fool to provide the spark to induce the moody demon's explosive temper to combustion, over such a small thing. Also, apparently he was peeved about their matches, today. It was no surprise, really—he had unresolved energy, as of the two fights the team had had, that day, Hiei'd fought in neither. No doubt that ate at his pride… This in mind, the fox turned his head with a slightly wearied smile, shrugging off the remaining shoulder of his tunic at last and letting the garment pool around his feet, just below the cuffs of the pants that yet hung from his waist._

_ "Ne, don't let it bother you, too much. It all came out right in the end, after all." It was as cheerful as he could manage, after such a tiring day. Ichigaki's machine, as well as two hard-won fights in a row… and some bruises he'd sustained from that last match he couldn't recall—those events(all in a row, nonetheless) did not really seek to increase his energy._

"_Although, it is a shame…" He stifled a sigh, sparing a wistful glance down towards the puddle of white silk rimmed in navy and gold(and littered with rips, black blood-paint, dirt and his own red bloodstains), on the carpet below. "This was one of my more comfortable outfits…"_

"_Baka! You almost died, and you're worried about a piece of clothing?!" Abruptly the Jaganshi was on his feet, hands clenched to fists at his sides as his teeth ground together, scarlet oculars thinned to a yet-more-severe glare. Slightly surprised at the vehemence of the reaction—but used to it, to some extent—the youko blinked, then offered a cool smile in his room mate's direction. He was not Hiei's property—not anymore, and they certainly hadn't been intimate for all the days they'd shared this room since they arrived at the Tournament(and not for quite a while, before then). _

_Hiei could not be allowed to think he could guilt Kurama into feeling guilty for making him worry._

_If Hiei wished to be angry in order to deal with his anxiety, then that was his choice, but—_

_They were not lovers, and as such Kurama only had the responsibility of a friend to attend to._

_Which meant: Be civil and without intent to injure, but not overly accommodating._

"_Forgive me for attempting to lighten the situation with insignificant details, Hiei. I shall endeavor to refrain from making that mistake in the future. Please, if you would excuse me for a bit." Tugging a shirt and a pair of boxers free of his meager supply of clothes for this 'trip', the fox turned briskly, striding into the bathroom for a quick shower. Naturally, he would take great care not to get the bandages on his left arm wet, but the rest of him felt as though it was overdue for a good scrubbing. That sentiment was likely due to all the blood he'd spilled, the sweat from his acrobatics against Touya(while his limbs were weighted down, nonetheless) and then Gama's dyed markings yet lingering on his skin(even though their power had faded, hours ago), no doubt—_

_Hiei and he were not 'in love'._

_They hadn't been, for a long time._

_(Or… at least that's what he reminded himself of, at times like this.)_

: : :

~Present Time(The Next Day)~

Sunlight. The sounds of birds.

He pressed his palm to his forehead, fingers shielding his yet-closed eyes from the unforgiving signs of morning. There was the scent of his mother's coffee percolating downstairs, too, if he strained for it.

With a sigh, he shifted slowly upward, free hand palming the mattress behind him for support as his back gradually moved perpendicular to the bed beneath. Rubbing that hand over his face, slender fingers at last combed back through the bright scarlet strands as he leaned his head back, aiming a wan smile towards the ceiling overhead.

_Again, with these dreams_—

That last one had been a memory. An old memory, by now—over half a year ago, while they were still caught in the deadly matches of the Ankoku Buujutsukai.

If only they would cease.

It would making moving on so much easier…

: : :

"This locater's a piece of shit! Now it's telling us to go towards the beach!" The brunet yelled over the sound of the rushing wind and crackling twigs beneath, trying almost in vain to find a dark smear in the treetops to his side. _What the hell is—_

A loud buzzing interrupted the rest of his train of thought, and he whipped out the compact while still moving(dodging around a tree), flipping open the screen to see Botan's worried face.

"Yuusuke! Have you found Hiei yet?! We've got a situation, here—!" He elbowed a branch out of the way of his face, there.

"Yeah, well, we've got one here, too! Yukina's missing!" The grim reaper gasped, horrified. The teen leapt high, clearing a fallen log strewn across his path, his shoes crunching into the snow as he landed and continued to run.

"Yukina-cha…?! Then you've found Hiei?! Put him on! Koenma-sama needs him to—" Duck under those low-hanging vines! Hiei'd sneer at him about it for days if he ended up half-strangling himself on some stupid plants.

Here Yuusuke stopped(as did Hiei's shadow, unnoticeably and a good ways ahead), blinking belatedly at the realization that that particular train of thought had jogged.

_Oh, yeah. Kurama._

—_Well, I'm sure Kuwabara's got it covered._

He nodded to himself, and, mistakenly, the shinigami took it as a sign he was listening.

_Botan would be less concerned about Hiei if Kurama were in real trouble, anyway._

It was around this point that he noticed the ferry girl was babbling about something-or-other(of which he had no clue). Reikai's head tantei beamed smartly at the screen, using his irrepressible bad-boy charm and interrupting her boldly, loudly—and without regret(as per the usual).

"We're in no mood for toddler-breath's bitching, Botan! We might have a lead! Call us back when you've either got some hard facts on Yukina's whereabouts or aren't wasting our time!" He grinned at the gaping, growing-furious face of the blue-haired ferry girl, flashing the tiny screen the V-sign.

"Mata neee~!" Her last words were choked off by the succinct snapping shut of the compact.

"_Chotto_, Yuusu—!"

: : :

~Several Hours Later~

Packing down the dirt around the sides of each plant he had watered, he spared them all a glance and a smile, nodding his head, politely. They waved at him in return, some entreating that he stay, reaching out for him like children. He indulged them, a moment, brushing fingertips in a soothing caress, speaking in hushed tones to them in the language he had learned from their kind, so very long ago.

The first language he had truly ever 'spoken'. It was as good as being his 'native tongue'—

"_Now, now… you know I shall return, tomorrow. No need to fret."_

_**But, Our Youko—we sense something… **_His brow knit, softly.

"_Oh…?" _The plants rustled at him, as good as a nod in any human conversation. They were uneasy, that much was apparent. Vines tugged at his sleeves, roots brushing the cuffs of his pants in worry.

_**Yes! A dark one comes… A dark one comes, he has already marked you…**_

He continued to pet his dear plants, sending out a soft pulse of youki to try and calm them.

"_My friends… I thank you for your worry, and for sharing. I shall take your warning to heart, and be careful…" _It was the only way they'd let him leave. He believed they would sense this—plants always seemed to read between his words, so well—but they fell silent a moment, various types of budding blossoms still tugging gently at his clothing.

_**Do not hesitate to call upon us for aid, Our Youko. **_He smiled, to this final response. They understood him so well, and did not seek to bind his actions with their worries. Nodding gently, he tenderly curled a few fingers around a nearby vine, to press a leaf of that wayward plant to his lips, in solemn promise.

"_I never do, my friends. Thank you. I shall return, tomorrow…_" With that, the florae retreated, pulling back into the depths of the greenhouse as though nothing had ever shifted. An affectionate smile touching his lips, he offered a last small nod towards the general center of the room, before exiting and closing the door behind him. Ever the caretaker, he diligently locked the old door with the key lent to him by the office for this particular task, before glancing down at his water-, sweat- and humidity-stricken shirt with another sigh.

: : :

"It's that bad, huh?" The fushcia-eyed shinigami nodded emphatically, ponytail and forelocks bouncing about with the motion, the view he got of it only limited to the small, circular screen resting in his palm.

"Yes! Kuwa-chan, you've got to watch out for Kurama—I don't know what Koenma-sama's thinking, but he's definitely in danger! Something about a stalker, I think…" The carrot-top snorted.

"C'mon, it's Kurama. I'm sure he's dealt with a few stalkers in his day—" Botan flailed at him.

"No, no, this time it's different! Please, can't you go check on him, Yuusuke found Hiei but Yukina-chan's gone missing, and—!"

"_YUKINA-SAN IS MISSING?!_" He bellowed into the compact, abruptly grabbing either side of the screen with large fingers, leaning so close his nose nearly smudged the glass. (As it was, each exhale through his nostrils fogged it.) "'baasan said she was looking for her brother!" The blue-haired ferry girl tittered nervously, adopting her cat face and pawing in the direction of the compact's screen. She'd clearly not meant to slip that little bit of information to him.

"Ehehehehe… ano…—iya, well… I called Yuusuke, but he and Hiei are too busy looking for her in Hokkaido, so—"

"Go on, Kazu." He jumped, snapping his head around to stare at his sister eying him from the newly-opened doorway, one cultured hand still resting on the knob. She slowly strode forward into his room, mostly ignoring the fact her brother was neglecting his studies in light of the call that'd come in.

"EH?! Ane—" She neatly plucked the 'mirror' from his hand, aiming a calm smile towards the frazzled grim reaper on the other end.

"Botan-chan, I'll check on Kurama-kun. You can't really expect Kazu to ignore his 'true love being in dire peril', can you?" She cast a deadpanned glance over her shoulder at the end of that phrase, for a moment. He laughed nervously at the look, the way he rubbed the back of his head not quite unseen in the background. "Besides, Kazu's right. Kurama-kun's good at taking care of himself." She smiled, eyes half-mooning to disarm the ferry girl's next comment. "Maa, maa, I'll drop by to see him, today. Don't worry." She clicked the compact shut, deposited it back in her brother's hand, and smoothly passed him all in a few graceful, unbroken strides.

"How much do you need, this time, hm? I'm not giving you a million, so you'll have to settle for the special express. Next one leaves in an hour. I'd hurry, if I were you." He rushed past her in a blur, snagging the yen bills she held aloft. There were the sounds of someone fumbling with their shoes in the genkan, then the echoed cry just before the front door slammed shut.

"Thanks, Ane!"

_'ttaku._

Her little brother and his friends certainly were a bother, at times. Nonetheless, as she sighed to herself she went to the closet to grab her coat. Kurama-kun's school was two stops down, after all. Checking her watch, she tapped the face of it, then checked again. Mm. They'd let out a little while ago.

Well, if he wasn't there she could simply stop by his house.

: : :

~One Week Earlier~

She couldn't stand. One of her ankles was bent at a strange angle, bruised and beaten skin of one pale calf visible under one of the rips in the long red skirt that now sprawled messily over her lower body. The ice maiden propped herself up on shaky hands, red eyes peering out from under a veil of bloodied sea-green, focusing on the tall, imposing man standing in the doorway to her escape. Her voice was trembling, soft but with an underlying firmness that one might not have supposed existed in the frail-seeming demoness.

"W-Why are you doing this… ?" Teeth glinted in a grin—she couldn't see his face clearly, only the shadows of white giving a hint to the expression.

"Because… _Yukina_—" he took a few steps closer and she stiffened, trying to scoot back, her mostly-ruined skirt dragging on the harsh stone of the cave beneath her. Her captor paid this no mind, merely reached down—_his fingers seeming like sharp noodles!—_and cupped her chin with those supernatural digits, leering at her with a low cackle. "Your brother and his friends caused _my_ brother to betray me." He crooned at her, lightly shaking her head from side to side with the hold he had on her chin. She flinched, shoulders shaking the tiniest bit as she tried to call her youki, tried to summon it instinctively to _get the man away_ from her, a hand rising to try and push his away, however feeble it might be, she had to try, had to—

"S-Sto—" His cool tone interrupted her, though, and she felt her breath catch as those deceptively-gentle, longish fingers coiled around her neck.

"Tut, tut. Now, you shouldn't do that…" They tightened, and she choked, her raised hand then lifting to tug desperately at the digits, the focus she needed to gather her ki slipping away even as she tried to fight through the pain. Memories, fogged and isolated, floated through her mind…

"_I've heard this kind of ward can burn the skin right off an ice apparition… let's try it out, shall we~?"  
_

"_No—don't! Please, sto—"_

At Tarukane's stronghold… had it already been so long—?

_"You know—you won't be here, forever, Yukina. …I have a sister about your age."_

"_Now's our chance! Tarukane's left the country on a business trip!"_

"_But… won't it be dangerous, for you?"_

"_Can't you think about yourself for **o**__**nce**__?!"_

The sound of gunshots ended their botched attempt at escape. Then, the sight of the young man, so kind to her, lying in a bloody heap on the carpet—never to return to his family, never to return to his own sister, because of her…

_"Don't bother. We've tried filling that girl up with every amount of physical pain imaginable. She just sits there, staring at the wall."_

"_No! Fly away! It isn't safe!"_

"_Brother."_

"_No! Let them go! Please… please—!"_

Those… the innocent little birds, who'd given her a small shred of hope she might one day escape—so cruelly killed by the man who… the man with the… long fingers, and the predator's eyes—

_"I am the all mighty Kuwabara Kazuma-sama! We're here to save you, Yukina!"_

"_No! You mustn't come! Run away! You'll be killed!"_

Had she already forgotten how to steel her heart against her own injury and suffering?

_No one can ever come near me, again…_

The fingers loosened, and she gasped in a breath, half-collapsing on the cold, smooth floor of the cave as her own hand rested against her throat. Coughs racked her body as she tried to regain the oxygen she'd lost in those few minutes he'd cut off her air, and tried to fight off the sharp thread of realization thrumming abruptly through her.

_It… it-it can't be… that man…_

Hadn't… hadn't Kazuma-san fought him, in the Dark Tournament? Then, hadn't he—hadn't he been killed by his younger brother as well? It couldn't be the same man who—

"Do you remember me, now, Yukina?" The whisper was soft in her ears, and she jerked her head up, fear from memory seeping into her gaze as tears lingered at the edges from the recollection of how he had… The big man, she'd seen again, during the Tournament, but this man…

She had a feeling she would always be afraid of him. His eyes… they spoke of only carnal greed, fathomless depths of torture and sadism drowning his soul in darkness—

"Y-You… "

"Hmmm~ You underestimate me, little ice apparition." He grinned at her, canting his head, then—and it was almost as though the madness was shining through the human's dulled eyes. Was it—was it a possession?! What had happened to the human soul in that body—?? Mildly distracted by her thoughts, she didn't quite notice he'd stepped closer to her until he pulled her up by the collar of the soiled, dark turtleneck she wore, smirking eerily into her face.

"I've missed you, you know. You were so easy to break… Tell me." He cooed, shaking her almost gently. "Have you thought about my brother and I, since then? How we almost killed those two human boys—twice~? They, old Genkai, the fox and your brother would have never become involved with us if it wasn't for you. Your little bitch-friends wouldn't have been dragged to such a dangerous place. Haven't you remembered that everyone's better off if they don't come near you? Even your mother~" Her eyes had grown wider with each ensuing statement—it was as though… he was reading her mind! But… but that was impossible! He had to only be guessing, she had to—the koorime shook her head, bringing her hands up and imparting a bit of ice ki into them, trying to freeze his arm so she could—

"N-No! That's not—"

"Oh, how cruel~!" He sneered, maneuvering his arms so her hands became jostled, dispelling her focus as he flung her up into the air—fingers wrapped around her wrists and she cried out as she was thrown to the floor, feeling a few ribs break with the impact as a small spatter of blood speckled out onto her lips. She tried to crawl away, tried to—she collapsed onto her front as he set a foot on her back, grinding the heel of his boot into her spine.

"You should know you can't run away, Yukina." High-pitched laughter resounded in the small, dirty space—her prison—echoing even as it began to recede. "Until next time~!"

Left alone in darkness, as the crackling of wards told her there was a kekkai up around the entrance, once more… She curled into herself, focusing her ki to a small sphere of ice-blue energy, doing the best she could to heal the worst of her own injuries.

Shuddering softly, she bit her lip through the pain, not allowing distraction to hamper her actions.

_Hiei-san… you would not be brought down by this alone, would you?_

_ You would live, you would not despair._

_You are my brother, and you are are strong._

She bowed her head, a moment, breathing in a careful breath as the pain began to lessen. She was sure not to use too much energy—likely there would be incidents in the future, she had best only do enough to keep herself alive.

After all, Hiei-san had—he had stayed alive, even after falling all the way from Hyouga.

She was his sister… she could not shame him by giving up so easily.

Even before she had known Hiei-san was her brother(during her time held at Tarukane's mansion), she had believed this.

She had known her brother was alive, and for her to die—to give up—so easily would insult his very existence.

_I will live to see you again, 'niisan_.

A slight smile quirked her lips at the thought, and she slowly pulled herself over to the corner where her dark blue cape was resting, mostly untouched, in a pile against the wall. She wrapped it around herself—more for comfort than actual warmth—and curled up beneath it, fingers rummaging around the neck of her turtleneck until she pulled the hiruiseki free from beneath it. The small, glimmering object disappeared almost as suddenly as it appeared, its brilliance obscured by flesh. Cool, familiar youki pulsed against her skin where she held it tightly in her hand. Slowly, the koorime allowed her eyes to fall shut, allowing healing exhaustion to topple her into dreams, that faint curve remaining tentatively on her lips.

_And then… we can sit in Genkai-shihan's temple, and—share a pot of tea._

: : :

_His fingers were twitching. They itched to bury themselves into that mist-user's throat, no pretense of elegance or bothering to form his ki into his precious bombs. The ninja would die, for so daring to sully his fox's body with his gutless hands…_

_Fists clenched in their pockets, nails scraping against supple flesh as he watched with supernatural intensity as the brat-leader of the team gently hoisted the unconscious redhead into his arms, toting him off to rest at the side of the ring. With a rustle of fine silk, the youkai turned, stewing silently as he withdrew, the shadows clinging to his form in the darkness._

_He cared not for their names, as their faces were burned into his mind._

_The rest of the Urameshi Team's fights did not interest him, now—Kurama would no longer be fighting, today, in the state he was in. Layers of enamel ground against each other, the sound echoed and tinny to his ears, due to the sculpted metal covering a better part of his face._

_The first disgusting blood-paint ninja had earned his death, and to be fair, the ice demon had not actually perpetrated the sin of __**touching**__ his fox, and so—he was more forgiving in his mind, to that one. Besides, that open slash on the kitsune's arm was beautiful in and of itself, and the spray of blood splattering in crimson waves around the youko had been breathtaking to behold. A sigh graced the innards of his mask. It had been lovely to watch Kurama dodging so artfully, as well—there was no mistake, he'd easily caught onto the kitsune's plan the first time he went down under the brunt of the ice-master's shard attack. That redhead was tricky. Surely, they would find a way to pull themselves away from losing this match, and advance onto the semi-finals._

_In the meantime, he could find a way to amuse himself with that crude, muscular oaf._

_So many well-developed muscles promised good blood circulation…_

_Not that they would save the shinobi from his vengeance, in the end._

: : :

~Present Time~

They strode, side-by-side, a heavy silence resting between them. The taller teen cleared his throat, casting a nervous glance towards the redhead from under a sheen of inky-black bangs.

"Kurama, about yesterday—"

"Please, Kanisawa-san. I warned you, did I not?" The youth blinked at him, and the kitsune-in-human guise had to fight the urge to sigh, recalling just how young his companion was. It was like talking to Yuusuke or Kuwabara-kun, in a way.

"I warned you… that I am not completely—'over' someone, yes? That it would be unfair of me to—" He was halted mid-sentence, by a pair of fingers on his lips and a teasing, mysterious stare that twinkled at him in amusement.

"Kurama. I told you, I don't care about all that." The boy waved a hand, long digits brushing gracefully against the air before they came to rest on the redhead's cheek. The other fingers slipped, cupping a cheek as well, and the slightly-taller youth leaned in, a corner of his mouth quirked in an amused smile as he noted the furrowing of the green-eyed boy's brow just a centimeter or so below. "I just care about you…" It was a close murmur, and even as Kurama felt warmth rush to his face, he cast a glance away, dutifully ignoring their close proximity, even though he could hear the thrum of Kanisawa's heartbeat, now, with how close the human's wrists were, to his ears.

"Still, I…" That responding mutter held far too little conviction in it for his tastes, but the ebony-haired teen didn't seem to mind, fingertips dodging the kitsune's forelocks and sliding back, pressing their pads against his scalp in an idle massage. Jade optics fell half-shut in absent relaxation, feeling strands shift in lazy fluidity around deft fingers. It was—

"So beautiful…" The admiring whisper was nearly inaudible, but it jarred Kurama enough to bring him back to reality—and he abruptly straightened(when had he slouched, like that, anyway?), hands coming up to circle around the other's wrists and draw them downward to the teens' mutual sides, pushing the heavy scarlet bangs framing his forehead against the other's chin to discourage any further acts of public affection as he glanced down.

"Kanisawa-san—we're in the middle of the street…" A low chuckle found that, and he opened his mouth to protest once more—only to be confronted with a quick, brief peck of a kiss upon slightly-parted lips that widened his eyes in surprise. Squinting emerald gazed up at(what was he—a 'boyfriend', now?) the other teen with a scolding flare, given only a moment's glance of a sly gaze before he was released, and slender fingers had somehow ensnared his own, pulling him along with an offhanded comment.

"Ah, you're right, Kurama. Perhaps we should hurry—so your 'kaasan might meet me, yes~?" The redhead flushed softly at the presumption found in the statement, stumbling after the taller teen with the first few steps before he caught up to him, hissing softly under his breath.

"Kanisawa-san! You—when I told you that, I didn't mean—" He broke off, blinking suddenly and casting his gaze towards their joined hands in muted horror. This was Japan! Hand-holding was not—it wasn't quite… acceptable, in most social circles. People knew him, people would talk and question his upbringing—question his mother's value. Humans always tended to be so prudish when it came to things like this… Discreetly, the youko tried to worm his way out of the grip before perceptive russet eyes were on him, again, slender fingers pausing before they tightened that hold, slightly.

"…Kurama?" Feeling unnaturally scalded at being caught, the kitsune turned his gaze down to the side as he answered.

"Ah, no, I'm sorry, it's just that—" Pointedly, he glanced towards their joined hands, before flicking his gaze up towards the other boy, optics narrowing slightly. "It's a… bit rude, don't you think? To be doing this in public…"

"Hmm, perhaps… I suppose it is quite a shame, then—" Kanisawa's tone seemed thoughtful, at least—Kurama relaxed, but then let forth a small cry of surprise as he was tugged forward once more, laughter not quite escaping the other but tinting his tone richly, well enough. "—that I do not particularly care~"

"Kanisawa-sa—!" It was an exasperated exclamation, and he tried to bite back the smile that threatened to curl over his lips at the rebellious response of his companion.

They walked on, for a ways, in silence. However, this silence was much more preferable to the one before—there was no heavy anxiety, and(while Kurama did yet wholeheartedly believe this brief indulgence of his in a relationship with a human would all end miserably, one way or another) the redhead allowed himself to relax, just a bit. He was idly comforted by the warmth of the hand clasping his own—as taboo as it might have seemed(to a properly-raised Japanese citizen—but then, demonic social habits were hard to break), the truth was, it didn't bother him so much. Absently casting his gaze towards the joined hands, a few soft words broke the silence after a couple of minutes.

"Kanisawa-san… I thought you came by Meiou to pick up your cousin, yes? Recently, has she—" He was interrupted by a quiet, curt comment that caused him to blink, mildly startled at the tone.

"She has taken to spending time with her friends, after school. As it is, we have enough drivers to spare one in the afternoon for her." The low, oddly unfriendly answer gave him another moment's pause.

"Ah…" He had another question to ask—as to why, when the youth had introduced himself, that night… why had Kanisawa not told him his first name? Surely, it would be better to introduce Kanisawa-san to his mother with both names intact, and if they were to be… 'dating', would it not be better to be on a first-name basis? Mind jolting with a sudden halting realization, an inner panic beginning to rise—

"Oh—Kanisawa-san, could you please remember to call me Suuichi, when we—"

"Of course, Kurama. I would not so easily forget your need for secrecy." There was a glance that followed that comment, shrewd and sharply observing. Dark. Brown that was nearly black. It almost set him faintly on-edge, whenever that particular intense look fell into his companion's eyes—there was something there, that was familiar. It was a half-memory that tugged at his mind, and the youko's old instincts whispered of danger. If he had had his tail, it would be bristling in inexplicable nervousness. Thankfully, his human form did not give away such emotion so easily. So, for the moment, the kitsune merely offered a smile in the face of those steely auburn hues, allowing his companion's hand to keep its hold on him as they continued to walk on.

"…Yes. Thank you."

: : :

_ No one ever asked what happened to Bakken and Risho of the clan of shinobi who had dared show themselves in the light of the Dark Tournament. Not Touya, not Jin—that pair of youkai being the ones who left the clan after their public match. Perhaps, in retrospect, it had been the right decision…_

_ After all, it was only the next morning that the battered, bloodied corpses of the two remaining team members were found in their equally shredded beds by the maid. Naturally, working at the Kubikukuri Hotel required certain temperaments in the employees—she simply called security, and stepped aside to let them gather and dispose of the corpses before she set about cleaning the room. No one bothered to let the information leak. Losers were no one's concern, at the Ankoku Buujutsukai. _

_In fact, it was 'officially' expected that the losers of any match were well overdue for death, at that point. In Makai it was the common rule of 'the strongest live, the weakest die', and this tournament was really no different._

_Unless, of course, the losers were strong enough to fight off any attempts on their life after their 'official' loss._

: : :

~Present Time~

The brunette smiled cordially as the door opened in front of her, revealing her face to the woman on the other side.

"Shizuru-san!" The younger woman bowed her head, slightly, showing the proper level of deference to her senior.

"Minamino-san. It's been a while, ne?" The elder's face brightened, and she opened the door further, ushering her guest inside.

"It certainly has! You're here for Suu-kun, yes? He's not home from school yet, I'm afraid…" Shizuru stepped inside, politely removing her shoes and slipping into the house ones provided, shuffling after the dark-haired woman as she bustled about, motherly waving at her to get comfortable. "Please, sit, sit! It's been so long… would you like some tea? My, my…"

The older Kuwabara sibling watched with no small amount of fondness as the lady disappeared into, then reappeared from the kitchen with a plate of her infamous cookies. Really… Kurama's mother was like a mother to all of them. Although they'd drifted apart, in recent months… She blinked, noting the plate held out to her by the smiling, middle-aged woman.

"Ah—thank you, Minamino-san." She took one, taking a small bite before setting it on the napkin before her. Shiori was practically glowing with happiness to see one of her son's friends… what _had_ Kurama been up to, these past few months, without them?

"It's so good to see you, Kuwabara-san…" A soft shake of her head, then. "I was worried… I haven't seen much of any of you in a while." She smiled, then, face adopting a very familiar expression as her eyes half-mooned.

_So that's where Kurama gets it_…

"I am glad he has such good friends. I'm sure if you stay for a little while, he'll return—it's just after his classes let out, and he's usually home not an hour later." Shizuru nodded, taking another small bite of her cookie and preparing to engage in painless small-talk with the woman across from her. It wouldn't do any harm, anyway…

But… something had to be up with Kurama, for Botan to be so adamant about someone 'checking' on him.

If it was any indication, though—Shiori seemed fine.

It couldn't be about her…

: : :

_He wandered, after that. To avoid notice—the last thing he wanted was for those idiotic rabbles of dull-witted youkai to bother him more, due to his rare color—he wore a long, dark brown cloak with a hood that obscured his face at all times. He had had his fill of demons and their petty ways. Any who tried to haggle with him lost an arm or an eye, whichever was within easier reach. Any who tried to rob him found themselves on the business-end of a botanical sword which he easily summoned from the smallest bit of greenery around. _

_They learned to leave him alone, after that._

_He would stay in a new place only for a few days, at times amusing himself with the children of the town. They would gather around him in the square, 'ooh'ing and 'aah'ing as he produced magnificent wreaths from flowers they brought him. They still never saw his face, but some may have seen the small, sad smile that would tug at his expression when they crowded around him, begging for stories or more flower-wreaths, or whatever struck their fancy. As irritating as the demons were, these children were different. He would entertain them until dusk, when their mothers would rush them away, casting dubious glances towards the mysterious youko._

_He paid their suspicion no mind, and merely moved on to the next town._

_Decades passed like this, and he soon gained his second tail. _

_The next town he wandered into appeared to have some appreciation for nature—it truly was a beautiful place, and he could appreciate the resplendent greenery framing the cliff-sides of the valley. A waterfall fell from a high edge on the far side of the cavern, and meadows of various wildflowers were strewn across the outskirts of the town. He continued walking in the direction of the small village, the quiet breaking with the roars and screams of bandits and innocents alike, in the town. A few rushed out, down the path he was taking in, and he absently tripped them with a few vines, neatly side-stepping the fallen as his plants went to town on their flesh, and plucking the bags of gold from where they'd been dropped. _

_He paid no mind to the bystanders who had gathered on the outskirts of the town, watching in horror as this scene played out. The youko walked past them, depositing the bags—without pausing—in the hands of a few surprised lads as he went on into the town._

_A gravelly, croaky voice echoed from behind him—one of the spectators he'd passed, no doubt._

"_You. Boy." Irritated at the way in which he'd been addressed, golden eyes spun around, narrowing upon an elderly goat demon from beneath their hood. In his prime, the youkai might have been tall, but for now he was short and slightly crippled, if the knobbled cane he leaned on was any indication. Slanted pink eyes took him in beneath a bushy white brow, long snow-white hair braided down his back around his horns—of which there were three. Two sprouted from either side of his forehead, curving down by his cheeks, and a third jutted out from the back. It looked as though it had been shorn at the end, though, to prevent being in the way. After this once-over, the young fox snappily replied, having no patience for old geezers who understood nothing._

"_What do you want, kuso-jiji? Mercy for your death?" Those pink eyes crinkled at the edges and a throaty rasp of a laugh echoed out—but it wasn't to last long. A bunch of youngsters—ranging in age from almost-toddlers to near-adults—gathered around the old man, the oldest one bristling angrily and raising his fists._

"_How dare you talk to Dura-shihan that way! You are an outsider! You know nothing of his greatness!" The fox had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. How wonderful—a master with his devoted disciples. The youko snorted, turning away from them and striding along down the main road of the town, once more. He half-missed the soft command, but all-too-easily heard the hasty footsteps coming down behind him. Turning to pin the rambunctious youth with a glare—his hood fluttering down around his shoulders, revealing platinum strands and triangular ears—he once more called the seedlings sleeping deep in the ground to burst into life. They germinated and grew, wrapping around the attacking martial-artist-in-training—and effectively immobilizing him._

"_Why, you—!" The young youko passed a cool smirk towards the captured youth—the oldest of the small group—and cast an arrogant look towards the master a little ways away, where he stood with his other charges._

"_You haven't trained them very well, have you?" The master merely gazed at him, pink eyes narrowing quietly. The elderly demon began walking towards the fox, and Kurama began to bristle, expecting a fight—but as the youkai passed, all he did was murmur to the air between them._

"_You have great potential for power, but no battle stance. Should you be in a fight that requires close-range combat, you will lose. Perhaps more than your life." Golden eyes widened, and he sputtered in rage, turning around to watch the master continue to walk off._

"_What do you—! How dare—!" In his anger, he called for the old-timer's death—he was seeing red, at being so insulted. The vines swooped up from below, once more—but in the space of a gasp, the elderly master was gone. The youko blinked, then heard the crooning, amazed voices of the children behind him and glanced up, quickly. He managed to throw himself out of the range of the master's cane just in time, eyes wide as it came back around and he flinched, raising a hand to try to block the strike—_

_It never came. Slowly, the youko slivered his eyes open, peering upward at the elderly goat demon hovering above him. He hadn't noticed, but… he was sprawled on his back, prone, in the most vulnerable position possible. The cane was stopped just centimeters from his cheek, on the opposite side of where he'd raised his arm to try and block it. The proud kitsune felt his face flush with shame, and dropped his eyes to the side, acknowledging defeat._

"_You are intelligent." This caused a blink, and he glanced slowly up towards the stoic face of the elderly youkai. A slight smile cracked that stern visage, then. "If a bit rash… but, given your age, that is to be expected." The cane was withdrawn, and the youko slowly pushed himself up on his elbows, eying the demon above him with mere slivers of dark saffron. The old man extended a hand, smiling slowly down to the suspicious youko. "You are welcome to come stay with us, young fox. I do believe we could teach you a thing or two about relying on yourself more than your plants."_

_ Centuries and a literal lifetime later, caught in the ring with a psychotic crow who had battered his youki down to where his precious plants only shattered like glass in the wind—_

_Kurama would be thankful for those lessons.  
_

: : :

~Present Time~

"Botan!" Her boss shrieked at her from the tiny compact mirror, and she sweatdropped.

"Ko-Koenma-sama…"

"_Have you located those files, yet?!?!_"

"A-Ahh, no, Koenma-sama, we're still working on it…" He yelled something strangled into the screen about it taking far too long—and then it went blank and buzzed. She sweatdropped, again. Shaking her head, the blue-haired shinigami turned around, smiling at the horde of oni she'd procured to help with her work. They were busily scanning the shelves on tall, mobile ladders, typing on computers or doing various other productive things. At last, one near the end and at the top yelled that he'd found it, and she materialized her oar out of nowhere, whisking towards the ogre and snatching it from his outstretched green hand. She flipped it open, pink eyes scanning the label at the inside top to ensure it was the right document. Then, she nodded, aiming a sunny beam towards the oni before whizzing back down the way she'd come.

"Thanks, Enshiro!" She flew out the large wooden doors, towards where Koenma-sama waited in his office with the two ghosts, fingers keeping the important file safe from flying away(or losing any of its contents) by clutching it protectively to her chest.

_I'm coming, Koenma-sama!_

She didn't know why, but it was related to Kurama-kun, and… he was such a good person! She hoped she was in time to make a difference—Koenma-sama was right! Every moment counted! This(and the well-being of one of her friends) in mind, she sped up as much as she dared, dodging around tall stacks of innumerable papers in the main room and skillfully avoiding any other flying emissaries she might meet in the air.

_Hold on, Kurama-kun!_

~*~To Be Continued~*~


	13. Concession

Disclaimer: I don't own Yuu Yuu Hakusho, or any of its characters. Those belong to Yoshihiro Togashi-sama, who made a lot more out of them than I ever could have. ^^;; I just do fanfiction for fun, and earn no monetary rewards for writing it. Reviews are, of course, worth as much as silver.

Title: Second Try  
Chapter Thirteen: Concession  
Word Count: 7,229

[Total Word Count: 88,214]

[The FF version of this fic reached 1,000 hits on 1/28/2010~!]

Anime: Yuu Yuu Hakusho  
Pairing: HieixKurama, ?xKurama  
Warning: Angst, violence, language, shounen ai

Author: Kita Kitsune  
Date: Sunday, December 27, 2009

Miscellaneous Notes: There are mild references to a doujin and a fanfic, in this chapter(I realized it as I was writing). The doujin is "Dream Crime"(Kurama kidnapping Yukina) and the fanfic is "Fond Memories"(referring to Hiei having a 'perfect memory') by Morgan D. [Here's the url for the fanfic—it and its sequel "Embracing a Knife of Ice" are both great(they're the second and third story-links from the top). x3~ h t t p : / / m o r g a n - d . n e t / e i e n / e i e n . h t m l ]

Waha, there're so many Sensui references in this chapter, too~! xD I hope you like them, SirPsychoSexy-san. I very much tried, but please don't kill me if I completely botched Itsuki's characterization(you'll get the random German reference at the end, I'm sure, as I'm fairly certain what's referred to there would be on the Black Chapter tape. I love Germany, but yeah…). ;.;

Sunday, January 24, 2010: Wai, first post of the new decade and year~! Ahaha. Updates will be much, much slower(shifting to once a month, after all, sorry! x.x) because this semester is just calling rank. Five books for one class(two readings per week, a summary due for each reading), four for another, and the other one's a philosophy class with lots of print-out readings(and summaries for each reading, for that, as well). On top of that all, I've got the Japanese Class regimen and my Copy Desk job to attend to(as well as the new girlfriend after about a year of being single, so gah, time for writing fanfics is being eaten[this last one being one of the better ways possible, of course]~!)! x///x

Never fear, though, I've got most of the next chapter written, so that'll likely be out in February. :3

Happy Valentine's Day, everyone, if I don't post by then~!

Yet More Notes(Sunday, February 28, 2010): Ah, look! Three reviews for the last chapter. :3 Thanks so much, Vixen-Of-Ice, various crimes, and Aliling. I can't tell you how much I appreciate the efforts to let me know people still like this story. I'm doing my best to keep it going amidst personal angst, college and work, so I would appreciate any silent readers offering up a comment or two, as well~!

Happy Saint Patrick's Day, because it's funny(what with the 'Happy Valentine's' greeting only a few lines up). xD

: : : : : : :

~The Previous Night~

Brown eyes watched him lustfully from below, the earthy depths drawing him in, drowning him.

"Kurama…" The sound was purred, and he carelessly moved a few ebony strands from the other's face with lithe fingertips, revealing more of that familiar visage. Strong arms wound around the youko, pulling him down, flush with his lover's heaving chest as their mouths locked, tongues sparring briefly. They drew apart too soon, a trail of spit hanging momentarily before it snapped. He could see the golden reflection of his eyes in the brunet's gaze, below.

"Kurama…!" It was a gasp, one that had his lover clutching to him, arching off the bed as they—

: : :

Something stirred him from the memory-dream, and the kitsune lay still for a moment, letting reality sink back into his body. A hand trailed up to one side of his head, to confirm this—no, just common human ears, no sensitive furry ones, no tail… He let out a slow, lengthy sigh. At last, Kurama turned over, absently glancing out past his window, towards the rosy tapestry that polluted the dark night sky beyond with the light of downtown Tokyo. The stars were invisible—but what could he have expected? It was not as though this were Makai—or, even Makai, the sight of the twinkling pinpricks above as rare as the stormless night that revealed them. He didn't bother to check his alarm clock—it was far too early to be up, and he would be drifting off once more, soon enough.

Why did he think of Yomi, now? That youkai was long dead, the companion-turned-lover-turned-annoyance taken care of, blinded over a millennium ago. He couldn't imagine that foolish, hot-headed, spoiled goat lasting more than a few days without his sight. He'd likely killed himself on the spot after he realized that Kurama wasn't returning to save him. Yomi had been so obsessed with him… The redhead exhaled into his pillow, quietly, turning his back to the window, and dutifully closing his eyes.

The images of a life long lived played over his mind. Black hair, dark brown eyes…

His thoughts began to drift back towards sleep, even as they settled on an errant, mildly disturbing and possibly foreboding realization that would be forgotten hours later, in the pale saffron glow of proper morning.

_Perhaps that is who Kanisawa-san reminds me of._

: : :

_Even from across the stadium, his fox was stridently vibrant against the dull blues and blacks of his team mates beside as well as the wall behind him. He saw Urameshi stiffen, and did not need to glance to confirm that Toguro behind him was engaging in some sort of cat-and-mouse game with the boy's sanity. Slowly, his eyes tore themselves from the redhead to gloss over the other members of the team. It halted on the Masked Fighter, at the far right. The crow youkai eyed her in the scant few seconds he had before Toguro Otouto turned and thus gave Bui and himself the cue to follow. That woman's mask was a hindrance, but he caught the telltale sniff of anger at the edges of her reiki. _

_Reiki. Interesting… Not to say it wasn't uncommon. After all the tall, gangly carrot-top and Urameshi were both fully human, and Kurama certainly had done a number on his human disguise when he'd designed it. Keeping his face carefully impassive—Ani had long ago learned to read his expression, even with the metallic mask in place—he turned over the thought in his mind. _

_Anger, at Toguro? For her gaze seemed not to shift from his visage, at least not until the hulking youkai turned and strode dramatically away from behind the railing they had used to view the Urameshi Team. Soundlessly, with the eerily synced movement of old partners, Bui and he moved to follow, Ani embellishing their departure a bit and releasing a dark cloud of vapor that cloaked their retreat. _

_Such theatrics._

_Although… he couldn't deny the urge he felt to do the same, when he thought of Kurama and their upcoming match._

_Oh, how he hoped the kitsune would observe it._

_He would put on a lovely show for the youko's adroit mind, play a little game by showing his ability yet only leaving the slightest hint. If he were lucky, he might even meet the redhead while leaving after the match._

_A slight tremor of anticipation swept through him, at the very thought._

_Ahhh, tomorrow couldn't come soon enough!_

: : :

~Six Days Earlier~

He hadn't returned, yet. She shivered, clutching her cloak around her, tightly. Not that she missed him—Toguro Ani. That he would still be alive, even after Kazuma-san's brave fight against him…

The petite demoness shook her head, brushing a few dirty strands of pale green from her face. Her senses were interrupted by the sound of footfalls, and she glanced up fearfully towards the door, shrinking into the corner before she could fight the reaction. The sound of the tumblers working announced the opening of the door, and she felt a shudder of trepidation. However, the figure silhouetted there was slighter than Toguro Ani's new body, and wore robes outlined in white against the light behind him.

He stepped into her stone cell, and with a jolt she at last realized he emanated youki. The clatter of a tray set before her caught her attention, and she gazed up at his kneeling form, blinking in curiosity. The demon's face was stoic, framed by teal locks that fell from a center part at the top of his head. The youkai watched her, seeming to examine her state, for a moment. Then, still not uttering a word, he silently rose, striding out of the open door. It clanked shut with a small click to signify the lock was once more in place, and the room was bathed in darkness. Glancing down to the tray before her, the koorime reached out a trembling hand to the bread and water laid out upon it. Her stomach squirmed restlessly for the food, and she fought a smile at the kindness he was showing her.

She did not know why there was a youkai here, among these humans(to be sure, Toguro Ani's presence could have gone unnoticed, as he'd supplanted himself into a human's body). It did give her a moment's relief, though, and she let herself trust what that unknown demon had brought her. Some were simply kind, like that. She quietly pulled off a piece of the loaf, and took a small bite out of it. It was the first real food she'd had since she was captured, and so the imprisoned koorime slowly worked her way through the simple meal.

: : :

"Makihara seems to be disappearing into the caves more often, these days." The broad-shouldered human flipped through the channels on the television before him with the remote, paying little mind to the fact there was no cable down here, and thus all he was scanning through was electrical fuzz. The video player beneath the screen blinked _12:00_ mindlessly up at him—he'd yet to set it. The only movies he'd brought were the Vietnam War-based one he intended to play when the tunnel was nearly open, and a child's Disney movie dubbed in Chinese. It was about an Arabian sorcerer apparently trying to destroy the world(the truest of all human desires), and the ensuing happy-couple ending that comes with his defeat. Who knew Amanuma had a fetish for strong women and happy endings, despite how much he professed the fact he hated all of his classmates(girls included) and wished for demons to be released upon them?

"Mm. He has." The demon moved slowly, yet not gracelessly, across the room, settling silently beside the human on the single couch in the center of the cave. The purple-eyed boy's video games were strewn across the dirt floor, the game console for once not humming and instead lifeless. Mitarai, Amanuma and 'Makihara' were asleep, as they should be, and he and Shinobu were busying themselves with preparations. Soon the day would come when Itsuki would be forced to leave his chosen human's side, but for now…

For now, he allowed himself to catch a glimpse of the one seated beside him, the human's face cast into flickering light by the muted grey fuzz playing over the screen. His expression was impassive, consciously and carefully devoid of any softening emotion. Shinobu did not need him for his emotion—did not need him for his presence. Shinobu merely needed him for his skills(not that he was complaining). The simple act of being near the human was quite calming to his heart, and his more demonic side never quite tired of the fact that, as each day passed and their aim grew closer and closer to fruition, Shinobu was growing darker and darker… like ink staining a white piece of parchment.

"Sunset sky like ash. Clouds of crimson engulf rain—painted flowers cry." The soft-spoken voice with a surprisingly lyrical lean cleared his thoughts, and a quiet glance towards the object of his ill-placed affections confirmed it. He allowed a moment of pause, for the poetry to sink into the silence settling between them.

"A lovely haiku, Naru."

"Itsuki… are we doing the right thing?" Shimmering eyes turned to him, and he met them with the calm stare of one who is used to such shifts. Those feminine eyes glimmered angelically with unshed tears and an eloquence shyer, more controlled than Minoru's charismatic bent. He offered her a half-smile that curved the side of his mouth upward, attempting to comfort her while she was present.

"Shinobu has decided our path. It has already been set in motion."

"But… there are innocent humans, as well. Is it not more of a massacre to—?" She let her statement hang in the air, and he allowed the beat of a pause before quietly dispersing her fears.

"No. Inside every human lives the potential for evil. Shinobu knows this of himself, and all of the humans that have gathered here have darkness in their hearts, as well." Golden eyes quietly settled on the 'lady' seated beside him, Shinobu's large hands worriedly clasping each other in his lap, his knees drawn together while his feet remained spread. It looked awkward, such a large man taking up such a very feminine, defensive position—lined in the tenseness of her forward-slouched shoulders, head now bowed as though in prayer.

"I… suppose you are right, Itsuki." Here Naru lifted her head, and smiled weakly at him. He inclined his head, quietly watching her. Of all of Shinobu's personalities, she was by far the most weak-willed about their cause. Perhaps it was something in a human female's mind that led to such a trait. Nonetheless, he mustered another half-fake smile for her, lashes partially veiling his sight as he watched her, changing the subject with her comfort in mind, effortlessly.

"Do you have any more poems you would care to share with me?" At this, she blinked, then blushed and looked a bit flustered—an adorable trait, she did so echo attributes of Shinobu's boyish personality, like this—glancing off to the side and putting a polite hand to her cheek.

"If… you would care to hear them, Itsuki." She glanced towards him, and it looked truly eerie, to see such a bashful, womanly gesture carried out by such a muscular and well-built _man_. Yet, it would have been, had he not grown used to her presence over the years. He upped that put-upon smile a notch, yet somewhere felt something in his heart settle, despite the strangeness of the interaction—or, even, their relationship in general. Perhaps that expression on his face was not so false as he believed. After all, no matter the personality at hand, each mind was but one aspect of the ever-complex being that was his '_Dark Angel_'.

"Of course."

: : :

_"Again!"_

_The still-adoloscent fox steeled himself, then rushed to attack his oncoming opponent. He dodged a quick elbow-thrust, parried an open-handed jab at the wrist with his forearm before laying the teen out flat on the ground. He cast a glance up towards the master, Dura-shihan's face quiet but approving._

"_You have surpassed our best student, Youko." To this he nodded behind him, and the guest they'd seen that morning quietly stepped out of the shadows. To no one's surprise, it was another goat demon. The fact that he was related to Dura-shihan in some manner was unmistakable, but this elder was younger, taller and more muscularly built than the petite youkai he'd come to respect over the past century. The decades had done nothing to lessen the fox's arrogance, but he had learned to reign in his temper and present a face that gave away nothing to his opponent. _

_Silently, he raked his eyes over the stranger, noting that he too bore horns, but in a different array than Dura-shihan. Two horns framed his face, sprouting from his hairline above each brow, down towards his ears, while the other four stood proudly on both sides of the center of his head, arranged in two neat rows. Predictably, there might have been a fifth jutting from the back of his head, but it was small enough not to be noticed from the front. When the demon turned to address Dura-shihan, however, he could see the smallest nub in the back of his head. A sign of age, perhaps._

"_You were correct, Dura. The youko shows promise. It would be a waste to leave him here to rot in this rural village. His skills require better polishing than you and your children are able to provide." The imposing youkai glanced towards the silver fox, then, and Kurama fought the urge to bristle with cool determination as the dark eyes lingered on his platinum hair. He knew what his coat was worth—he'd known it since he'd interacted with those village children, a lifetime ago. He didn't like the look in this demon's eyes, and by the look of it Dura-shihan would send him away…_

_Well, perhaps all the better for it. He had known from the start that his stay with Dura would be only temporary. He couldn't say he'd wasted the time, either. The century of training(and his emergence from adolescent to more-or-less young adult) had granted him a third tail, and a higher level of power as well as a better understanding of fights than he'd had, before. Besides, if his new 'master' tried anything not to his liking, he still had the plants hidden in his hair as a trump weapon. Of course they would still hear him—although he had been 'forbidden'(for his training's sake) to use them in battle, he regularly conversed with the flora in the area to keep up his skills and not lose the precious plant-language he had learned, as a very young kit. He had not realized at that time how rare being able to 'speak' with plants was. It had seemed as natural as breath, to converse with them. However, a city…_

_He was still a hot-blooded young risk-taker, at heart. The challenge a place likely devoid of much plant life held could only increase his skills and knowledge, after all. Youko was smart enough to know this, at least._

: : :

~Present Time~

"Kanisawa-san!" It was a gasp, as he was pressed(in full-view of the street) against the trunk of the tree just a few houses down from his yard. The redhead squirmed, trying to catch the wrist of the errant hand that'd snuck itself up under his uniform jacket, tugging at the buttons of the once-crisp white long-sleeved shirt he wore beneath it. No doubt it was wrinkled, now. He felt a smirk against his lips, plying tiers trying to coax his own into reciprocating and he exhaled a soft sigh of resignation into the other's mouth, slouching back slightly onto the bark and allowing his(was it really 'boyfriend', at this point?) companion to take what he would. In the small amount of time he'd known him, really, he'd discovered it was best to let Kanisawa-san get what he wanted. Afterwards, he could talk to him—the fox smiled against the amorous kiss, quietly shifting fingers to run along the back of that probing hand that'd gone up his front. His other hand moved to gently trace up the other teen's jaw, jade oculars slivering slightly shut as the fingertip circled the shell of a half-covered ear, pushing a few errant strands behind the audit.

When they parted for breath he took his chance, placing digits over the other's lips to stall any further attempts, hiding the smile that wanted to escape onto his face, at the enthusiasm. To think… to think, that it had really been so long since he last had a lover(it not withstanding that they'd not quite done the deed, yet) that was not reticent about affection. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed this. Granted, Kanisawa-san was horrifically young(in comparison of their summed ages, this dallying of his might have branded Kurama a pedophile), a normal human(in psychological terms only, of course) and their relationship was still in the 'novelty' stage, so it was to be expected—but it was still rather comforting.

"_Kanisawa_-san." It sounded rather breathy, even to his own ears, and the kitsune paused a moment before shifting to meet those dark, intense eyes framed by sparse onyx strands that had not sought to leave his face once since they'd broken away from one another. "We should—" Hands moved to the sides of his face, stroking there as his paramour leaned closer, his breath on his face and Kurama's eyes nearly slid—

"Ah… you're right. Forgive me? I couldn't quite help myself—" The fox made an interesting noise, eyes snapping open as his audit was taken and tugged at with teeth. He felt another wave of crimson engulf his countenance that had nothing to do with the wind teasing and mussing his hair. The kitsune pressed his forehead into the close curtain of ebony locks, whispering with the attempt to keep his teenage body's libido in check. Couldn't… they would see his mother in mere minutes. They couldn't be later than they already were.

"A-Ah… I forgive you, just stop—doing…" He whimpered as the other teen laved the bitten area, chin jutting forward as his neck strained while a flood of ghostly memories greeted that touch and its usual sensitivity. That was one thing that hadn't changed, when he reincarnated into this new human body. Somehow, his hands obeyed him even as the rest of his body wouldn't, and they found Kanisawa's upper arms and grasped there, working him gently but firmly away.

_Teenagers._

They were at times hopeless, and thus needed a bit of responsible guidance, now and then.

: : :

It was endearing, really, how Kurama thought such a paltry attempt to dissuade him would succeed. However, when the fox just slightly raised his head, the breeze having blown part of his scarlet hair into his face and obscuring his left eye, he caught his breath. The visible cheek was painted a very dark cerise, one emerald optic aimed off to the side. (Perhaps, again, not in bashfulness, but more in favor of collecting a moment to control himself.) The reincarnated youkai was inescapably enamored by that, and raised a hand to draw fingers over the fox's cheek, once more. He found himself murmuring soothingly, voice caught against the wind that rustled around them.

"Yes—I'll give you a moment, and then we'll see about your mother."

The look he was graced, at that—it was so grateful, he found himself conflicted. Covering by offering the 'lopsided smile' he'd come to take on as a mannerism in light of his deception, he stepped away from the redhead. Feigning casual masculinity, he made to lean against the other side of the tree he'd pinned Kurama to, mere moments ago. He tried not to think too deeply into it, really. It would bring no good, would cloud his motive—

_Which is what this is all about, isn't it?_

All of this, the seals, the secrecy, the acting—it was all so he could have Kurama, completely and unrepentantly at his mercy. Wasn't it? It wasn't for some fool's notion of 'love', not for 'affection', not for some sense of 'rightness' with the world. It was only to be around Kurama.

_To bask in that beauty without hearing the ever-present whisper for destruction of it..._

…but, wait.

No, that couldn't be the right reason, that was—

He would eventually kill Kurama, would he not? It was in his plans, to that end—wasn't it? To get close to the fox, bind their lives, restore his youki and… and, what? What would he do, then? Would he go back to life before Toguro? An assassin—or, plotting only the _kitsune's_ lovely death with every breath he took? If he were to follow that line of thought, all these months of painstaking preparation would be futility's claim—once the final seals were affixed and he had both his youki and its Quest Class rank returned to him—would he be back to being lost in sordid fantasies of rape and torture? He would not deny the truth—hedonism and sadism were both engrained in his nature.

However… he'd not anticipated this.

How he would be able to control himself so admirably around Kurama that the fox would suspect nothing.

How the resulting lack of terror attached to his presence would seek to unbalance him and his convictions.

How fetching Kurama was when he returned these motions of physical intimacy without prompting, without fear, without—

"Kanisawa-san?" That voice pulled him abruptly from his thoughts, but, ever-composed, he cast a glance towards the redhead around the tree, situated just by the crook of his right elbow. There was a hesitant smile, and he noted with forlorn absence that the blush had dissipated, and the fox's lips had lost their mild puffiness. The would-be teen slowly trailed his gaze up the other's countenance, taking the time to enjoy the perfection of that view. Jade watched him, softly. He felt a brief touch of fingers on the sleeve covering his lower arm(the attached hand submerged in a pocket), after a moment.

The masquerading demon paused, then settled for the response that came most naturally to mind.

"Shall we?" A nod from the beautiful one beside him, and he had pushed off from the tree, almost absent-mindedly twisting digits to catch the kitsune's in the way they had been, before. To this, Kurama offered no protest(concerning Japanese cultural taboos) as he had, and a strange little ditty strung up in his chest, at that. They walked on, his fingers subconsciously grasping a little tighter.

It was not that he was uncomfortable over meeting someone so important to Kurama.

It was not that he was nervous about what he might do to her, when they met.

It was not either of those things, for either of those reasons, but…

It _was_ that the silly little warmth which tugged at his chest and was drawn from the heat of the youko's hand(the sensation wholly new)—unsettled him a bit.

…A bit.

It _was_ enough to cause his human heart to thud strongly in his ears, and his hand to suddenly feel clammy and yet oppressively warm against the softer, cooler digits of his obsession.

_Are all human bodies this emotional and reactive?_

: : :

_He found the city to be as uninspiring as Kurama-machi had been. It had taken three months of foot-bound travel to reach it, and the kitsune wrinkled his sensitive nose at the vast myopia of scents all clamoring for attention that wafted from behind the high walls. It was a world unlike the kind he was familiar with, though—here was a true urbanized society, a books-and-records-and-rules sort of city where passports or connections were needed to gain entry. _

_This he observed firsthand—wearing his long dark cloak to hide his color(as he had been, the entire trip and out of engrained habit), he followed silently after his new teacher, barely spared a second glance by the guards as the goat youkai waved him in as trustworthy. Once inside, the metropolis was a steely, massive concoction of buildings and roads, all layered and built one upon the other. Bridges between buildings soared in a dizzying array high into the foreboding Makai sky. The fox could smell the electricity cracking in the air—perhaps, with all this metal, they harnessed the lightning from the constant storms? Truly, this was a sophisticated society. _

_He took a moment to observe it all—a blur of hundreds of scents, sounds and sights—before the goat youkai made to move on, and he had to swerve between the masses of various demons clogging the street to keep up. For every step he took, it seemed the other gained two and so soon he was running, not out of breath or really caring in the slightest as to where the other 'master' was headed, but not willing to give up and have his pride take the hit for losing such a man. Besides, it would be made all the worse to return to Duma-shihan in disgrace, if this was some sort of test of his ability and he failed it horribly._

_Eventually he caught up to the youkai, following him by smell alone. It was a mighty task, to be able to sort out this single demon's scent amidst all the youkai crowding this city. (Then again, the other demon did reek of their three months' travel so much as he did.) He trailed the older demon to the bottom of what looked to be a temple. The stairs rose high into the rain-heavy clouds blanketing the entire area, but if he squinted he might have seen a gate far ahead. The demon cast him a cursory glance before beginning to climb. Taking the cue, the fox followed after slowly, senses alight for anything out of the ordinary coming from the unseen sides of steel that the buildings on either side afforded. _

_It made him… uncomfortable. Often, temples were based around nature, but this one—a large one, judging by the number of stairs—was squeezed into the minimum space needed to house it. Walls of metal rose up into the air breathed by hundreds on either side, hemming him in. It was a far cry from the rural and forested areas he had come to know so well. They reached the top, and he was barely winded. When he stepped past the black torii gate looming overhead the youkai turned and grinned at him, obviously pleased._

: : :

~Present Time~

He would have sped faster than sight, but only in battle was Yuusuke quick enough to keep up with him. As such, the Jaganshi restrained himself from hurtling at full speed towards the sudden _flicker_ of his sister's ki, off by the coast near the icy waters of the ocean. His Jagan and the tantei's device had reacted to the faint burst of youki(never mind how he had procured that lock of hair of hers) in the same instant, and(barring that irritating call from the reaper) they had immediately changed directions to track it. His Eye could sense her location, now, but it was his companion's device that could pinpoint it to within a few feet.

They ran for hours, clearing the dense forest and never stopping to wonder why they hadn't been able to sense her, before. No, this Hiei quietly turned over in his mind during the long trip, instantly wary of a trap and yet unable to keep himself from hurtling straight into it. The awkwardness of their last meeting did not matter, now—all that mattered was seeing her safe. It could be that she had been warded, as in Tarukane's mansion. The mere thought of her being submitted to such torture(again!) simply due to her race and its 'talent' for producing gems was sickening in and of itself, but he doubted there could be another reason.

He had many enemies—not so many that were still living, but family and friends(if loyal enough) often came seeking revenge. How they would determine that Yukina was his sister was another conundrum, though. He had been very careful to stay generally away from her, for her own safety. It had never been spoken, and all who knew of the fact in the small circle of those related to the Reikai Tantei would never leak that information. He ran through the list in his mind.

_Yuusuke, Shizuru._ No, they would never. They enjoyed teasing him of it, too much.

_The ferry girl?_ …No. She was too easily intimidated by his threats. It kept her mouth shut.

_Genkai? Koenma?_ No. They left him to his own life, well enough.

_Kurama?_

Having pointedly ignored his subconscious whenever it supplied that name(for the last six months), he felt a chill run through him as it was whispered in the silence of his own mind. Kurama was… did he not take revenge on those who injured him? Was that not how he had found himself in cahoots with the kitsune(rather than on opposing sides), in the first place? Would Kurama stoop so far as to hire someone to kidnap her, to torture her, knowing it would harm Hiei the most—?

He supplied the answer, himself, after a few more seconds of careful consideration.

_No. That is not Kurama's style, now_. The youko had grown far more forgiving and soft-hearted over the years. He would never bring harm to an innocent bystander to serve his own needs. He had a stricter code of honor, now.

But, once awakened, old thoughts of the redhead that produced their own kind of odd ache swirled around him in perfect memory.

_Laughter._

_He opened his eyes, squinting against the sunlight. He felt a repressed shudder next to him, glancing slowly over with a glare promising death—only to be greeted with an impish smile and silence. Cool fingers trailed over his cheek warmly, and sparkling green drew slowly closer, accented by that infuriating smile. The hiyoukai grunted, turning his head and causing Kurama's lips to brush his cheek, instead. Undeterred, the fox wrapped an arm around the slim, sturdy waist below and flipped onto his back, dragging the grumpy Jaganshi with him._

_He snarled in vain against the worn white cotton fabric beneath his teeth, tugging on it in an aborted threat. Long digits smoothed at his hair at the back of his head, running over the spiky ends and then worming their way into the mess of dark. A soothing voice echoed against the sunlit air._

"_I'm sorry—you had a bit of hair pushing into your nose. You wrinkled it in your sleep~"_

_To be fair, he hadn't actually __**heard**__ laughter. Kurama had suppressed anything that might have escaped well before he reached real consciousness. Nevertheless, Hiei felt the need to be difficult, and peered moodily over the kitsune's collarbone up towards his chin. It didn't quite matter that he couldn't see the redhead's face, like this. He didn't need to. Muttering, the youkai ground his cheek into the worn fabric with an irascible mutter._

"_Shut up. You're stupid to think that's amusing." The chest beneath him faintly rumbled in what might have been a chuckle, and the digits once more resumed their comfortable petting. To hell that he would admit it, though. That would open an avenue for teasing, and, really, the youko didn't need any more of those._

"_Mm, I suppose~" He felt lulled by the warmth beneath him, and fought the attempted pull of his lips upward, as he lazily drifted back towards sleep. The kitsune's other arm was a welcome heat and weight where it rested around the small of his back._

_Kurama._

He shook himself from the vision, concentrating once more on the situation that plagued him. Yukina—they were nearly there, he could feel it. She was(once again) his first priority.

: : :

_"We made the correct selection, after all—" He raised a brow. "Youko Kurama." …and twitched, inwardly. He'd never, in all his years at the dojo, told Dura-shihan his 'full' name. Granted, it had only been attached to him by way of the villagers or passers-through of the long-deceased Kurama-machi, but he'd simply presented himself as 'Youko' to the aged goat youkai. How did this man… ? The fox checked himself, and succinctly wiped the small amount of surprise from his eyes as the taller demon continued._

"_Come. We do indeed teach students, not unlike Dura-shihan, but—" Here he smirked, as numerous black-clad forms sprang from all directions, surrounding them. Tossing off his hood with a well-placed tug(so it would not obstruct his vision so much), the youko narrowed his eyes, tail bristling unseen beneath his cloak at having been so deceived. A trap? For his coat, possibly? How stupid of him to trust this demon simply because he was a relation and acquaintance of Dura-shihan. Long fingers itched to stretch towards his own silver hair, and he barely caught the man's next words, a bit too preoccupied with watching for any movement from the ninja that barred off all sides of escape._

"…_as you can see, our methods are a bit different." The goat youkai laughed, an eerie sound next to the silence of his lackeys. "You see, we shall not have to harm you if you agree, Youko Kurama." The kitsune smirked chillingly(imagining various ways the plants concealed against his scalp could be used to maim this fool), crouching into a slow, defensive kneel. He did not quite give away his attack gesture, leaving his hand by his thigh and not yet allowing it to begin to rise slowly to his hair._

"_Oh? And what is it you would have me agree to?" Russet eyes glimmered in the darkness._

"_Allow us to train you, yes? Pay back your debt with your skills—" The silver one's eyes narrowed, hitting on a note of desire in that tone. His voice was slippery-smooth, like a knife, that arm moving to lift his fingers towards the long, silky tresses that housed some of the most deadly plants in Makai._

"_And what skills would those be?" The goat demon canted his head, arrogantly, smiling more openly, now. As though amused at his reaction? Amber depths narrowed in scarcely-exhibited suspicion. The amusement was likely at having not received an immediate 'no'—well, he would have to change that, wouldn't he?_

"_Why, thievery, of course. You have a natural quick-footed sneakiness, I've seen it—it simply needs to be encouraged in the right way before you get too much older." Kurama felt his brows raise, disappearing under long bangs as his hand fell. His stance was yet wary, but—interested would be an understatement. Damn his race's easily-intrigued nature. (Granted, he did not remember much from his kit days with his doomed family, but he had traveled by and far enough by now to hear rumors of kitsune and their ways.) However, as for this youkai's reasoning…_

"_Thievery? What would shinobi seek to gain by thieving?" Here the goat youkai waved a hand, stepping forward and smiling slyly towards the kitsune. He noted that the ninja surrounding him relaxed, most of them straightening to a stand. He adjusted his own stance accordingly, straightening a bit out of his defensive crouch while still wary and on-guard._

"_Our business is our own. Consider your presence here an… apprenticeship, of sorts. You are free to leave whenever you like, but if you should ever spill the true nature of this 'school'—well, I cannot promise you would not meet a most unfortunate set of circumstances afterward." _

_It was a veiled threat, but far too obvious for them to think he would consider refusing outright. The kitsune weighed the choices in his mind. In the end… it was his own damnable curiosity that rang him in. _

_At any rate, the skills would be fun to learn, and he could see himself getting a gaudy little thrill from each respective heist(he recalled that incident with the boar demon in Kurama-machi with enduring amusement, after all). It was the best choice, really. What else would he do, where else would he go? He had been wandering before stumbling upon Dura-shihan's village, but before that had no aim, no purpose. Perhaps this unexpected turn of events could prove to be fruitful, after all. In addition to all that, it had been presented as a given that he could leave whenever he desired._

_Or so he hoped._

: : :

~Present Time~

They emerged cautiously onto the cold beach, Yuusuke glancing about and around for any sign of anyone. Not too far off, they saw someone standing in the surf in a hooded yellow sweatshirt and jeans rolled up to just below the knee, appearing not to mind the icy water at all. The two tantei glanced towards one another. It was a human, they had decided not long ago when they sensed another being near where Yukina's ki signature was emanating from. This person's signature was reiki, not youki, and so standing beside him should be the ice apparition they so sought—unless she was hidden behind the human.

The two team mates—one youkai, one human, himself—advanced slowly upon the seemingly oblivious figure.

_Perhaps we can ask this guy if he's seen her? He may be a little nutty, standing like that in the ocean at this temperature, but—_

All of Yuusuke's thoughts of this being an uninvolved bystander died when the person, hardly over than himself, turned around. A few blond curls originating from under the edge of the hood fell over a huge pair of blue eyes. For a moment he mistook the boy for a girl, but when he spoke it was clear.

"I've been waiting for you." The blond turned to fully face them, smiling at them as he sized them up. His eyes fell to the shorter one in front of him, and he grinned a bit more, reaching inside the front center pocket of his hoodie. He produced what Yuusuke assumed to be an ordinary spherical bauble hanging from a cord. The way Hiei tensed, however—anger abruptly jumping into his usual glare and suffusing his youki—told otherwise, even before the blond continued to nonchalantly spin his tale.

"Oh—do you recognize this, Hiei?" Even from where he stood, the blue-eyed boy he could see the garnet eyes narrow at the knowledge of his name, and—confident in his trump card—the human smiled just a little bit more. He palmed the almost-shining blue-white stone, shielding it from the shadows setting in due to the sunset, and glanced almost idly at it.

"It's quite pretty. Do you want it?" He glanced sidelong at the angry Jaganshi before him, canting his head conversationally and completely ignoring the flabbergasted and slightly-confused tantei standing just beside his seething friend. He then released the hiruiseki(it didn't fall, with the cord wrapped around his thumb as it was) and waved his hand, causing the gem to sway gently in the air.

"You can have it." He offered, generously. "And with it, our word that no harm shall come to her, even after our goal has been accomplished." The student chuckled, to this, smiling openly at the demon. "I offer this to you because, as you are a demon, we have no reason to hate you. As soon as Angel-san found out what was going on, he was going to free her. However, he realized we could use her presence to our advantage, because she was related to you two. He has a knack for things like that."

He practically beamed at them, at this point, suddenly tossing the hiruiseki through the air towards them. Hiei caught it, a pale hand snapping out in a blink of time to fist the precious gem. The intensity of his slivered scarlet gaze had not diminished, but the strange blond boy still observed him with benevolence.

"If you leave now, we can promise her safe return when this is all over. If you do not leave, well…" His expression grew darker, bright azure shaded due to his hood. "I will be forced to kill you."

Hiei was airborne before Yuusuke even had a chance to yank him back.

A bright red line slashed over the top of one of the blond teen's thighs, and those azure eyes went wide as he stumbled back further into the small waves, salt water lapping at the bottoms of the rolled-up denim. The wound began to drip, it saturated the fabric in a jagged streak and seeped a small amount of crimson into the ocean, turning the white crests nearby pink. Breathing raggedly, the boy's legs shook, then collapsed, causing him to kneel in the surf, the injury buried in the cloying embrace of the salty sea water. He was brought eye-to-eye with the end of that bloodied katana pointed straight at his nose.

"Hiei!" Even with his eyes(and their ability to detect and follow the Jaganshi's speed), that attack and the ensuing shock finally caught up with him. Wide-eyed, Yuusuke watched the hankoorime's shoulders tighten, the hand not holding the sword fisted firmly around that cool gem.

"Stay out of this, Yuusuke." That tone was dark and not in the least remorseful, and the blond boy could see it in the demon's eyes that he held no regard for him.

"I give you two choices. Tell me where she is now, and I will end your suffering. Refuse, and I will make your death much more lingering." The blue-eyed teen was amazed at the simple reaction to his words—and oh, how he admired it. This youkai would hopefully be like all the other youkai, quick to sate his revenge and quick to deliver judgment. It was the utmost in loyalty, and thus quick retribution for holding someone dear to him hostage would follow. 'Straight' revenge—so unlike humans, who played and tricked others with false hope in captivity, only to kill them in the end. _Arbeit Macht Frei._

However…

"My friends call me '_Seaman_', and I think—" He rasped through the pain, the beginnings of a grin widening over his face as the cresting waves rose up behind him. They shifted and morphed into a monstrosity whose 'form' was held only by water tension. He could feel the behemoth behind him, and remained where he was, allowing more of his blood to seep into the ocean and feed the size and power of his creature. A hint of uncertainty flashed in those red eyes as they lifted from him to take in the water-giant—_so like hers_—but the blond boy laughed, yelling out the last words before Hiei rushed him, disregarding his brunet companion's yell for him to stop.

"_You've underestimated me!_"

~*~To Be Continued~*~


	14. Heedless

Disclaimer: I don't own Yuu Yuu Hakusho, or any of its characters. Those belong to Yoshihiro Togashi-sama, who made a lot more out of them than I ever could have. ^^;; I just do fanfiction for fun, and earn no monetary rewards for writing it. Reviews are, of course, worth as much as silver.

Title: Second Try  
Chapter Fourteen: Heedless  
Word Count: 7,638

[Total Word Count: 95,852]

[Total AFF Hit Count: 1135]

Anime: Yuu Yuu Hakusho  
Pairing: HieixKurama, KanisawaxKurama

Warning: Angst, violence, language, shounen ai, insanity, shoujo ai

Author: Kita Kitsune  
Date: Friday(gold-day!),February 5, 2010

Miscellaneous Notes: Chapter finished, today~! :3 Hopefully I'll get Chapter Fifteen done by the end of this month so I can post it, though~ Also: Very crow-heavy chapter. x.o;; It just came out that way. Next one will probably focus on another particular scene rather closely, although I'm not yet sure which~~ x3

More Notes(Sunday, February 28, 2010): Ugh, college is owning me, right now. I've not had any time to write, so Chapter Fifteen is barely written, at all… Also, I had to deal with a big relational let-down, right after I finished this chapter(around the 11th). Blah. Spring Break starts this Saturday, though, so hopefully then I'll have a week to write, and maybe I'll even get something more written for Chapter Fifteen, today…

;.; Uwah, I hope I'll have enough written for it so I can post this chapter before 11:59 PM, today! x.x

(It's 2:46 AM, now.)

Also, this: In honor of the 'Month of Valentine's Day'(and after much deliberation and beginning to hate the '?' I've had in there, since the beginning), I have changed the second listed pairing until such time that Kanisawa's 'real identity' becomes known(to Kurama). Of course, it doesn't change a thing in the actual summary, as both 'Karasu' and/or 'Kanisawa' can fit as the 'Ka' in the fandom shorthand for the 'Ka/K' pairing. xD [Yes, I'm really that much of a detail-oriented, double-meaning geek that I planned that on purpose, from the start. :3 (It makes me giddy inside for no apparent reason, so hush.)]

Of course, you can also look at it as the crow fooling the lot of us(author as well as the readers? Oo;; ).

x3! Aha~

(8:03 PM): _Well_, I had an interesting day. Went to the work meeting, but felt dizzy and feverish—so about halfway through I had to say "I'm feeling dizzy, could I lie down?" and thus accidentally stopped the meeting and plummeted(safely, through my own power) to lie face-down on the carpet in the meeting room. Hah! They're all my age, but it was still pretty bad(you know—pride-wise). I felt nauseous and generally UGH(might have to do with getting my period yesterday, but I haven't felt sick with it in three cycles!). Think it was the heating pad I was using. It made me sweat a lot and overheat, and I gulped down the water they gave me like a dolphin. Once I cooled down I was better, and then I got a friend to walk me home just in case. It's much better, now, but I need to nap… and then I remembered this fic. D: No, not all(or even half!) of Chapter Fifteen is written, yet, but I think I'll get it done over Spring Break.

This is a 'good faith post', as I hope I'll be able to get March's post out in March. x.x Be glad I thought of you guys before I went down to rest, otherwise I don't think this chapter would've gotten out before the end of the month~! [Ah, who'm I kidding, it's all for me and my twisted sense of tradition. xD]

Reviews would be lovely to wake up to. :3

Yet More Notes(Saturday, March 27, 2010): Thanks to Vixen-of-Ice for the review for last chapter(seriously, you make my day, knowing I'll get at least one review on every new chapter I post! Thank you so much!), and various crimes for the review for the random 'Bonus' fic I posted on V-Day. :3 Enjoy the update, I hope~!

: : : : : : :

_It was, perhaps, the most indelibly routine existence he had lived, thus far. They would rise with the dawn, always from the same bedroom, to go about training exercises with the shinobi designated 'Teacher'. Day after day it was the same, old techniques giving way to new only gradually. The time spent here was endless—they did not permit him to go on heists upon being such a novice, despite how talented he was. They groomed him in every way—sneaking, using his skills with plants to their utmost, encouraging creativity in problem-solving, pressing upon him the importance to have a plan behind a plan behind a plan, just to be prepared._

_His first job came and went without much fanfare. It annoyed him, to say the least, but when the leaders announced they were to attend what Reikai had titled the "Tournament of Darkness for Those Honorable Inhabitants of the Demonic Realm Who May Be So Inclined"(the lengthy title of course keeping with the fashions of the time) it cast a smidgeon of interest into his dull life. Granted, the 'tournament' had existed for centuries before the formal decree, but Reikai's approval came with a loose set of rules as well as a place—in the Ningenkai, the Spirit Realm's precious jewel, nonetheless!—and an arena. It was a bribe for peace, and a good one, but the youkai themselves couldn't care less about the order so cleverly installed upon their chaos. So long as there was death and blood on an annual basis, none really cared what went about making the event itself occur._

_As in those days and latter ones, a select number of humans did have some stake in the fights that went on—but it would be many, many centuries before any dared set foot on that island to manage their interests directly. At this time in history, youkai were still a wild, untamable bunch that would remain so until greater part of humanity began to lose faith in their actual, supernatural existence._

'_Kurama' did not recall much of those first epic fights as he was too silently awed by the sight of spraying blood and dismembered limbs. The rush of the cheering crowd around him was an intoxication all in and of itself—he may have even shouted along with them for death, even if he would never disclose that fact to anyone in his newer incarnation. He was a young youko, yet—his bloodlust would not be sated until he had further matured. Then again, that was to be expected due to the environment in which he had been 'raised'._

_The ritual began, here—perhaps to sate the youkai hatred for humanity(still only young, the two species were too different and the barrier that would come with Reikai's need to protect its 'treasured world' nonexistent, causing them to interact and clash)—the worst of humanity were given a token jab at freedom. They were prisoners, these first ones—given the laughing promise that if they survived, they would be given anything they wished. Of course it was a lie, and Reikai's way of appeasing the demons by them relishing seeing humans being rent limb from limb by their brethren. It was a chance to see youkai raised above ningen, as they should be, and an instance for youkai to compete for the title of 'strongest'. Only in later days would the rules grow sterner, as well as the requirements for teams and substitutions—but this would be a long time in coming to pass._

: : :

~Present Time~

The redhead softly stepped inside, calling out to the quiet interior of the house as his guest followed behind him.

"Tadaima!" A little late, he noticed the second pair of shoes in the genkan, and paused—they looked like women's shoes, but it was only one pair. It couldn't be one of her book meetings, she would have told him beforehand—and there would be more pairs, besides. Working his own shoes off, he slipped into the hallway, and Shiori popped around the edge of the parlor, smiling at him warmly.

"Okaeri, Suu-kun! We have a visitor, she…" The brunette trailed off as her brown eyes settled on the other teen standing a bit awkwardly in the hallway, eyes averted downward and arms folded behind his back in uncertainty. This lasted only a moment, however, her son disturbing it as he blinked his own green gaze in surprise.

"Do we? Ah…" He cast an apologetic glance back towards his friend, and she noted the quick meeting of gazes between the two of them. "I brought Kanisawa-san, I thought you had wanted to—"

"Oh!" Understanding flooding instantly into her expression, the Japanese woman smiled around her son's shoulder, patting it comfortingly. "Oh, that's fine, Suu-kun. It's Kuwabara-san." He mentally noted the difference, there—'san', not 'kun'.

_So it must be Shizuru, then._ He smiled, nodding and gesturing behind him.

"I'll leave him to you, then. Shizuru-san must want to talk to me." He left the hallway, padding silently into the room. Shizuru was seated on the couch, for once not nursing a cigarette, and a half-eaten cookie rested on the napkin in front of her. Shrewd brown fell on him in a moment, and she leaned back, arms crossed casually over her front.

"Kurama-kun—" Her eyes flicked to the hallway. The cheerful sound of his mother's voice echoed out from there, light and happy. That hard gaze returned to him, evaluating.

: : :

"Ah… It is nice to meet you, Minamino-san. My name is Kanisawa Takashi." He bowed, feeling rather out-of-place without Kurama in sight. He forced a smile, his eyes involuntarily flicking towards the entrance his kitsune had disappeared into.

"I see, I see. Well, it's wonderful you could come." She smiled at him, and he found his gaze resting on her. Fine dark hair was tied back into a low ponytail—straight, he noticed, with dark eyes. She truly was a commonplace Japanese national. Straight hair, dark eyes…

Despite their hue, he found something familiar in their depths. A kindness, a fragility—it reminded him of someone, from long ago. Unsure of what to do with that memory and the comparison that came to mind, he offered another awkward smile, bowing his head a bit more.

"Ah, yes… Suuichi said you wished to meet me." A flicker of intelligence caught his casual use of her son's first name, and her smile turned a hint warmer. She reached out, gently cupping his cheek and gazing up at the boy who was only slightly taller than her own.

"…Yes." She smiled, then. "I hope you will take better care of him." _Than his last boyfriend._ The continuation rang in the silence after that statement, and it was seen in her eyes, how they watched his quietly, calmly seeking an answer he could not voice. The crow youkai was mildly taken aback at her candor, and felt an altogether unwelcome, telltale heat dart across his face. The woman laughed gently, patting his face before turning.

"Come, let's see what Suu-kun and Kuwabara-san are talking about. There are some cookies in the parlor, if you'd like one—"

She was offering her back to him as she exited. He could kill her with one well-placed blow through her back, and straight through her heart. Kill her. Kill her, as he had killed his mother who so acted like this woman before him. Was Fate mocking him? Bringing him back around, in another world, only to again meet the sort of mother that he had had—the knee-jerk urge to murder her was strong. Murder her, so that Kurama's attention would solely be focused on him. Murder her, so that she would be protected from causing the kitsune pain as she grew older, feebler and—no doubt—_sicker_.

_Murder her, now._ The soft sienna hue in his eyes shifted as he stared at her retreating back as though through a fog, and never more had he wanted the use of his ki. He slowly advanced on the woman, a cloud of violet sneaking into his intent gaze.

: : :

How could Kurama not sense it? He was staring at her as though perplexed, when she could feel every fiber of the supernatural being in the other room. Shizuru didn't need to see the person to know something was _off_ about him. She stood, narrowing her eyes as she shifted her weight restlessly to one hip, arms still crossed over her front and that long skirt brushing against the tops of her tall boots.

"Kurama." She inclined her head to the side, indicating the direction of the hall. "That guy is not right. I can sense it from here." She cast him a suspicious glance, as the ki of that stranger in the hallway began to shift.

_Awkwardness? With Shiori? That can only mean_… She allowed her glare to turn a bit more severe, and the redhead in front of her hesitated in giving his response, granting her an opening to continue speaking.

"What are you thinking, huh? I don't have a problem if you're moving on from Hiei, but at least choose someone that's got a better feel to him, eh?" She cast another glance towards the hallway, gaze sharpening only further as she felt another change in the suspicious ki.

_Not good. Can't Kurama sense his intent?!_ It had shifted again, but this time dangerously so. Scarcely thinking about it, she strode to the threshold that led into the hallway, offering a sharp, knowing smile as she pinned the advancing man's gaze with her own. It stopped him, at least, although she could clearly see the urge to kill yet floating in the red that hovered over his gaze. Shiori blinked at her, utterly oblivious, and as she felt Kurama come to stand behind her she physically _saw_ that murderous look in those purple eyes disappear completely behind a swirl of innocent brown.

Her own naturally brown eyes thinned only more in suspicion.

_**Not**__ good. _

_He's somehow made it so Kurama can't sense his intent. Why would he do that? What's he trying to hide? _

_And what does Kurama think he is—a normal human? Not with that ki. _

_His spirit doesn't match the body. They're on two different wavelengths_.

_That he would go this far—who is he, and what does he want? _

_He's putting on a masquerade, but for what purpose?_

She pressed her lips together in subdued frustration, still coolly watching the brunet as Kurama proceeded to introduce them. Shizuru wasn't fooled by that falsely deferential bow, but played along, inclining her head politely. No need to upset Shiori, after all. She shouldn't cause a scene, here.

"Pleased to meet you, Kanisawa-san." She saw those dark eyes narrow towards her. He'd caught onto her realization, obviously. Well, good. Maybe being nervous about his secret getting out would keep him in check.

_Botan was right to be worried_.

: : :

She quite literally _blew_ in the door, almost pulling it off its hinges with her gathered momentum but settling to hover gracefully in the air, despite the shell-shocked looks of the two ghosts she'd startled. Meirin-chan's eyes were wide, and she was clutching to Minamino-san's arm as though he would keep her safe. This all went unnoticed, as with a bright smile Botan produced the document, floating just to the side of the solemn-faced brunet.

"Thank you, Botan." He took the documents, and with a _pop!_ reverted to his toddler form. Meirin-chan squeaked, while Minamino-san just shook his head. The tiny prince turned to them both, shuffling through the documents before handing them out.

"All of you, look through this list. It will go faster with the four of us." Amber eyes narrowed over their blue pacifier as he shuffled his own pile of sheets.

"You are looking for a demon who goes by the name of 'Karasu'." He heard a gasp, and knew that the reaper behind him had put a hand to her mouth in shock. He went on, undeterred. "It is represented by only one character, and combines the symbols for 'fang'—on the left—and 'bird'—on the right. Get to it!"

The group fell into silence as they settled, each with a good amount of sheets of names of demons who had died that day. Hopefully, they would find the record of this 'Karasu's soul being accounted for in Reikai after his death, soon.

_If not…_

: : :

_She knows_.

Granted, she couldn't know precisely who he was, otherwise she'd have told Kurama in a heartbeat. He felt somewhat relieved by that, at least—but the way she was staring at him revealed her thoughts. It had been stupid of him to lose himself, like that. No matter how much Kurama's mother reminded him of his own, she was just as forbidden to kill as the kitsune himself was.

_No, that's not—I'll kill Kurama, too, when this has been settled properly_.

Secure in his rationalization, he returned his attention to the present moment. Currently, he was nursing a cup of tea, seated across the table in the living room from a brunette likely around the age of his current body—and who was glaring suspicious death at him. Thankfully, human culture prevented her from making any drastic moves while in Kurama and his mother's presence. He never thought there would come a day when he was grateful for the limits human society placed on its natives.

Kurama was seated beside him, and his mother across from the redhead. The reincarnated demon tried his best not to look at her—without being overtly suspicious, of course. She was grading him, that much he could feel, and to be too meek might win bad acclaim. She might not approve of him 'dating' her son. He had to 'prove himself worthy'.

…Humans were so petty.

He offered a congenial smile towards the glaring younger woman(and, conveniently, the older one seated beside her), making his voice as light and conversational as possible.

"This is lovely, Minamino-san. Thank you." That was all he could sum up, at the moment. His mind felt stupid and blank, and if he weren't baffled by the mere thought of it he could have sworn his palms were sweating, again. Luckily, his youko intervened.

"Ah, Shizuru-san, how is Kuwabara-kun? Is he keeping up in his studies? I've heard from Yuusuke that he wants to become a doctor—" He could see it didn't work, her eyes were still suspicious—but at least they turned from him, softening and answering the kitsune's inquiry with polite small-talk.

He decided, at last, that this situation was rather awkward. It had to be the situation, of course. There was nothing the matter with him. Nothing had changed. He sat relatively quietly for the next few minutes, allowing the conversation to pitter-pat around him.

"Kanisawa-san?" He mentally started upon hearing his pseudonym come out of nowhere, blinking otherwise calmly up at the motherly smiling face, her brown eyes warm.

_A smile surrounded by straight, lengthy dark hair, purple irises that matched his own._

He briskly dismissed the layering vision, smiling slightly and neatly setting his teacup on the tablecloth of the coffee table before him.

"Yes?"

"What is it that you do, again? Suu-kun hasn't been kind enough to tell me." He felt a shifting of Kurama's ki beside him, and resisted the urge to smirk. To be gently yet publically scolded by your mother, and to feel embarrassed by it—the emotion was foreign to him, but coming from his beloved it was rather endearing.

"I manage my family's affairs." It was the simplest answer, surely, but she was staring at him curiously and he felt it was expected that he say more. He improvised. "I… work as the Head of the Manor, under my uncle. It involves balancing his daughter—my cousin—'s and his wife's appointments, diets, recreations and various other requirements." There, that was enough, wasn't it? She was blinking at him as though in surprise.

"Your family? A manor? Then you're—does your uncle run a company around here?" He felt a lingering sense of trepidation. Surely she didn't… He smiled again, belying his inner thoughts.

"Why, yes. He runs the Kanisawa Corporation." For a moment he was terrified that she would know of its underground dealings, but she only shifted to beam at her son.

"Ah, Suuichi, I knew it~!" She turned back to him, still smiling. "I work as a secretary in the Public Relations division. What a coincidence!" She then tipped a sly, teasing glance towards her son and he felt a flicker of appreciation for the look. It spoke of intelligence, a mind beyond what was shown. "There, you've made a good choice, dear. He's cultured, as well as set to become the heir of such a large company."

He could _feel_ Kurama blush beside him, and had to bite his tongue to kill the chuckle that wanted to escape. The brunet refused to sneak a glance at his fox, although he was sure the redhead's expression was somewhat hilarious(if that sputtering cough as Kurama had choked on his tea was anything to go by).

"'k-kaasan! That's not—!" That sly look instantly disappeared to one of complete innocence, brown eyes half-mooning warmly at her boy.

"Ah, I know, Suu-kun. I was only kidding~ It's good that you two fell in love before you knew that." To that, he felt his own face heat, and had to glance away, no matter how undignified it seemed. The youko had gone silent, and, if he had to guess, Kurama's face was now the picture of a gaping fish. He heard the sound of a muffled snort—likely that 'Shizuru', finding amusement in all this. Perhaps for Kurama's mother's perception, but who knew? Ningenkai relations between parent and child were so odd, after all.

"Geez, Kurama, this is better than the daytime soaps…" Here he glanced up, catching the tail-end of a smirk on the younger woman's face as she eyed her friend. He also noted that green eyes had risen to glare at her—albeit not so seriously as they could, given that his mother was _right there_. As though to break the silence, Shiori laughed, waving a hand.

"Ah, this is a good time, isn't it~?" That glare turned to a frown, as he rounded on his mother. Kurama's tone, however, was as ever-polite as always.

"'kaasan? Don't you need some help with putting on another pot of tea?" She smiled at him, just as sweet and polite, as she rose to stand.

"Why, yes. Thank you for offering, Suu-kun." The kitsune moved to stand and he and his mother headed off, disappearing into the kitchen. The young woman's gaze lingered on the two Minamino as they left, offering a polite smile and a wave. Unnoticed, he casually passed his fingers over the table and the cups that remained upon it, catching the handle of his teacup gracefully in hand. She slowly turned to watch him. Her gaze had sharpened, and the brunette leaned back, reclining on the couch—arms crossing confrontationally over her front.

"So. Who are you?" He hid the beginnings of a smirk carefully behind the porcelain rim raised to his lips, at the lack of fear in her tone.

: : :

~A Few Hours Earlier~

Brows were knit beneath a bright smattering of crazy red locks, jutting every which way. Crystal-clear eyes were closed, his entire form calmed in a rare moment of mediation. Crossed legs floated a good couple of feet off the ground, his arms folded neatly over his front, as well.

"They're in trouble, aren't they?" He hadn't even heard the sound of the shoji door sliding open—but he knew the presence, and so the redheaded demon didn't bother opening his eyes.

"Yeah. Urameshi's wind i'n't doin' so well. 's disturbed. Hiei's, too, although with 'is it's harder to tell—" Touya moved to lean against the doorway, leaving the fragile wood-and-paper door out of harm's way behind him. The smoothly polished wood floor of the hallway was visible through the open entrance, as a result. The ice-wielder folded his arms, watching his longtime partner carefully. Jin was strangely at peace, none of his usual exuberance showing—but then, that was what a lifetime of shinobi training could produce. A disciplined side, a rebellious side… he had them, as well. At last, those sapphire optics creaked to slivers, focused off to the side. The ice youkai felt a need to state the obvious.

"If we leave this temple, Reikai will sense us."

"Yeah." The shorter youkai kept his voice quiet and matter-of-fact.

"You're worried about Yukina-san, as well, aren't you?"

"…Yeah." The petite demoness had grown on all of their hearts, really. Shishi, Suzuka, Chuu, Rinku—they all would do anything for her. Rinku was young, yet—he didn't deserve a lifetime in jail, and even one with his potential was too weak to survive by himself in Makai. Chuu was seldom sober, there. Ningenkai was 'more fun', in the drunkard's opinion. Likely because, while booze was easier to score here, it was much more diluted than he was used to. Kept him sober, but not really out of trouble.

Shishi and Suzuka… they were finally at peace, here. Toguro had been defeated, and so Suzuka felt cheered by the fact Urameshi had, indeed, been strong enough to beat him. Shishi was just—well, he'd never admit it, but he liked Suzuka's melodramatics, at times. It was all for the best, really… the blue-haired swordsman had seemed rather put off by the fact he'd been beaten by an old woman. Was it any wonder Suzuka paraded around in his one battle as himself in the Tournament, decreeing he be called 'The Beautiful Suzuka'? Especially after Shishi had admitted to the entire stadium that he could have fallen in love with Genkai, were she always in her younger(and prettier) form. He'd been pouting since then, almost, but Suzuka was beginning to slowly draw him back out. The ice demon could have sworn he saw the chibi form of Shishi curled comfortably in Suzuka's lap one lazy, sunny afternoon. Could have sworn he saw Shishi almost-smiling, not smirking, one day not so long ago—

"Touya." Pupil-less eyes moved to his friend, noticing that Jin was staring at him intently, now. Both clawed hands palmed a knee, though he was yet seated, cross-legged, in midair. He recognized that look. They had had the same thought. They had nothing to risk—they were shinobi, already wanted by their sect and Reikai for daring to step out of the shadows and reside in Ningenkai. They already had enough crimes to pay for—innumerable ones, over the past few decades, to put them away. Their shinobi clan would kill them if they found them, for deserting the sect. They couldn't go back to Makai, and as a result they had nothing to lose. They couldn't get jobs in Ningenkai, they stood out too much and presented a risk to the 'normal' humans. They were unaccustomed to the culture here, as well.

No past. No future.

The ice ninja felt a corner of his mouth twitch upward in an aborted smirk. He kept his pride in otherwise keeping his expression stoic.

"Jin. If we go after them, we will likely be caught and imprisoned." The wind master gave a grin big enough for the both of them. His slouched back straightened as pointy fangs showed and elfin ears perked to attention. The small white horn on the top of his head gleamed gently against the light from the hall.

"Yeah. Ain't that a kicker?" Touya tipped his head, indicating the open door behind him. They were used to life on the road, they could live with nothing. Take off with nothing holding them back.

"I suppose we can't leave the rescue attempt to Yuusuke and Hiei, after all." The ice master held out his hand, bracing himself. His redheaded friend beamed at him, the gratitude clear—_thanks for letting us go, I couldn't live with myself with the three of them in danger_—and clasped his hand, hard, pulling Touya in towards him as a swirl of wind wrapped securely around them both. The familiar weightless feeling set in as Jin's power settled over him, and the room around them was trashed, inadvertently. As the tempest sphere burst through the roof and into the sky they heard the faint sound of Genkai yelling about them repairing it when they came back.

Jin just laughed, waving goodbye towards the compound as they sped off, fast as thought, and Touya turned away, hiding the smile that wanted to escape over his face.

It would be good to have one final battle in the light before they were forced into centuries of atonement.

: : :

~Present Time~

"That was unnecessary, 'kaasan." She headed for the empty kettle on the stove, noting that he broached the subject as soon as their guests were out of earshot.

"Mmm?" She gently moved it beneath the sink's faucet, letting it begin to fill. It never hurt to look busy. "I wasn't aware it made you uncomfortable. Really, now, I was only having a bit of fun." She heard a sigh, and knew her son was running his hand through his hair in exasperation. She smiled at the kettle in front of her, then turned the spigot off and glanced back at him.

"He seems like a nice boy, Suu-kun. He likes you. And he's much better-mannered than that other one you had, a while ago—what was his name…" Her tone trailed off as she put her attention once more upon the stove, granting him a reprieve and allowing him to react without needing to politely shield. Her back facing him, the redhead felt his heart clench, lips practically fisting around the painful word.

"Hiei."

"Ah, yes, that was it. At any rate, I hope he'll treat you better." She shook her head, turning the dial to activate the burner. "Hiei always disappeared out of nowhere, he was so grumpy and sullen—you deserve better than that." There was a soft silence, then.

"'kaasan… You don't need to—"

"I know I don't need to, dear." Here she looked over her shoulder at him once more, smiling happily. "You're my only son, and I simply want what's best for you. That Hiei didn't make you blush as Kanisawa-san does. Why, I merely mention something trivial, only poking a bit of fun, and you turn red as a beet~!" Her tone and gaze turned serious, then. "You never reacted that way with Hiei. He seemed to make you more confident, cooler, but Kanisawa-san… he makes you more insecure. That's how love is, dear." He was staring at her, now, with that unreadable expression he sometimes had—and she bit her lip, fighting back memories of her first husband. She turned back to the stove, resting the heels of her hands on the bar on the oven door for support and blinking away old, stubborn tears. Her knuckles curled gently against the cool metal.

"Love is allowing someone to affect you enough that they draw out the 'real' you, Suu-kun. It can be frightening, but it's all right, in the end. It always works out as it should…" Her heart ached, to that. She didn't want to give him false hope, or the pessimist's view. For it _had_ worked out, for her—a husband, a son, a loving family. Even though her husband had died when Suu-kun was only three, the gift of the child he'd given her lived on, to this day. It was enough that she could now seek happiness for herself, secure in the fact she had raised him well despite the challenges a single mother faced, both financially and romantically.

The soft, unidentifiable scent of growing, earthy things enveloped her, and she paused in her musing as her son's arms wound around her from behind. He was clutching to her like a child—like he did when he was younger. His embraces had never felt like those child-hugs her friends had told her their own children did—when they were scared or sad. He was never really frightened, he never clutched to her out of fear or sorrow, it seemed. Times like this, she just felt a deep wave of love and gratitude. Was there awe, there, too? It amazed her, to some extent, how she had raised such a balanced young man. It was as though he was a true 'old soul'—so mature, always so composed.

It made demonstrative moments like this all the rarer, and so she smiled softly, gently patting his arm as she had done when he was smaller. She was so lucky to have been blessed with such a thoughtful, caring boy. They stood in silence for a while, a parent and her child sharing the kind of bond few could even dream about.

: : :

_She woke to the sounds of screams and a rumble, as though a table had been knocked over._

_ It was chilly outside, but not enough to bother her, and so—in her night yukata she crept to her door, cracking it open just a bit. The lamps were out, in the living room, and so the sounds came from the bedroom down the hall. Hina-mama and Rui-mama's room. To this, the little girl hesitated. She had never ventured in there, before. Rui-mama had said to keep—_

_ "LET GO OF ME, YOU __**BITCH**__!" She winced, hiding behind the threshold of her room as though her eavesdropping could be seen from behind that closed door, delicate childish fingers pinching their pads against the smooth wood. Yukina took a small breath, and set her face, squaring her tiny shoulders._

_ Hina-mama was upset. Rui-mama had told her to stay away if she ever heard this in the night, had told her to put the pillow over her head and go back to sleep—_

_ Maybe, though… maybe she could help Hina-mama feel better? Just this once? Maybe she could do something that would make Hina-mama go back to smiling in her absent-minded, softly distracted way at her? Hina-mama was pretty when she did that. Pretty, and nice, and she seemed happy—_

_ Making up her mind, the little koorime placed a tabi-socked toe outside her room, and slowly advanced towards the door. There were crashes, this time, and more yelling—now muffled, as though by something soft—that emanated from behind that entrance, and she paused only once. It was brief, and she soon steeled herself to start again, raising a shaking hand to the sliding shoji—_

_ "DON'T TOUCH ME! WHAT RIGHT DO YOU THINK YOU HAVE?! YOU __**KILLED**__ HIM! YOU—"_

_ The shorter, adult ice maiden paused mid-shout, and both sets of blue eyes locked on the frightened, doe-like pair of red ones that seemed grey in the lack of light. They hovered only a few feet above the polished wood floor, set atop a pre-pubescent, girlish frame from which the sleeping robe hung off of one pale shoulder. For a moment, all was still. Then, Hina shrieked, lunging for her child and Rui was just a few steps too late to catch her as mother and daughter tumbled to the ground. But Hina was sobbing into that sea-green hair, hugging her child and seeming not to notice that Yukina had gone stiff with both surprise and fear._

_ "Oh, oh Hina! I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry! You should never pick Rui, she's evil…" The conspiring whisper strummed through Yukina's heart like a blade, trying to sever tentative bonds she'd created. The comment caused her eyes to lift in utter confusion towards her more stable mother-figure, who had hastily closed her own sleeping yukata and was utterly still, eyes only for the little girl pinned in an insane embrace._

_ Fear. She saw fear, there. Rui-mama was afraid. Slowly, she began to hear the ramblings echoing right into her ear, once more._

_ "Never lay with that fire demon, never do that, let him die in the storm, don't save him, turn your heart to ice—" The murmurs were coming quicker, now, and she gasped in a breath that was suddenly hard to take. Cold hands pressed into her cheeks, and frazzled sapphire strands strayed like spilt ink over her 'true' mother's pale face, eyes focused on something she could not see._

_ "Oh, oh… it's you? Hio? Mama's sorry, Hio… so sorry—" Her mother smiled, then, brokenly staring into the crimson eyes identical to her little son's. It was the only feature she could recall of him, with clarity. She'd scarcely seen him, before—_

_ Her expression hardened, ki flailing wildly and Rui felt a gut-wrenching stab of emotional pain. The taller ice apparition started in shock at the scene before her, frozen for a few precious moments—then lunged, hoping she wasn't too late!_

_ The little ice maiden choked, hands clawing at the pillow cutting off her air as her mother forced it flush with her face, a hand on either side of Yukina's head pressing the plush object into the hard floor. She was suffocating the girl slowly, pinning her head with the pure brutality of one whose mind has gone as she straddled the small, writhing body. The flailing of smooth, prepubescent limbs grew weaker as the tiny koorime was denied a steadying breath._

_ "Die, Hina! Die, now! If you die now you'll never see that fire demon, never have Hio or Yukina—they'll never suffer, they'll never be born! Die, die, DIE, DIE—" The hands were suddenly pried away and Yukina shakily pushed the pillow from her face, gasping and wheezing for breath and eyes fleeing upward as she watched. Rui-mama had covered Hina's eyes with one hand, and used the other to take her wrists, twisting them away from her partner's own child. She didn't look at Yukina. All Yukina could think of was how much taller Rui-mama was than Hina-mama. How much taller, and stronger, and nicer—_

_ "Yukina-chan. Are you all right?" The mad mutterings of their mutual loved one had been subdued with the lack of sight, and Rui-mama turned carefully—not letting up her hold—to catch a furtive glance of her adopted daughter. She looked scared, shaken, but she was breathing all right. Rui tried a tight smile towards the frightened little girl, keeping her lover in check with a firmly gentle grip._

_ "Go back to your room, Yukina-chan. Please stay there until morning—and try to get some sleep."_

_ Rubbing her suddenly-parched throat, the little girl managed to push herself up with a minimum of trembling, and slowly shuffled out the sliding door. She shut it behind her, and wandered back to her room—also closing the door behind her, there. The hiruiseki around her neck was cool and cold against the skin between her undeveloped breasts. She put a hand to it, holding it tightly, and scrambled to the futon. She immediately hugged close the little stuffed bird Rui-mama had bought for her, long ago enough that she couldn't remember not having it. It had her own scent, which had rubbed off from too much hugging and too little washing. She'd had it so long it even had her youki embedded within. It was a fluffy and fat baby bluebird—a type not often seen in such frigid weather—and good for snuggling._

_ It also muffled her sobs and soaked up the first few tears she could ever remember crying._

: : :

~Present Time~

Hiei felt a choking blow to his midsection, which sent him sprawling into the sand with a cough, half-buried under the cold dirt. In another moment Yuusuke had stood before him, his posture hard and suspicious, voice loud.

"Wait! What's going on!" He pinned a severe glare on the blond boy, who looked scared for a moment before grinning widely. A low voice from behind him met the air then, and he turned to glance back at the Jaganshi who was pushing himself to a stand, ruby narrowed angrily towards their foe.

"They have Yukina. This hiruiseki is hers." Realization dawned, and Yuusuke ground his teeth in anger, punching his fist into the palm of his hand as he turned around. He smirked, expression full of teeth as he strode forward.

"Then I guess we'll have to beat the crap out of this guy until he tells us where she is!"

: : :

_The days and months blurred after Kurama attended his first Tournament, until time began to slow once more. Rumors spread of a merciless youkai rising from below—a malignant presence who upset the power of the one great ruler, Raizen. Legions of Raizen's followers had gone(without their lord's permission) to cut down the rebellious youkai and the rogues that came in his anarchic wake. The battles were long and fierce, but none so much as in the center of the field. The youkai's hands were chained in front of him, his head wrapped in a tight, ancient scrawl of bindings and perhaps wards, as though hiding some great disfigurement—but it might have only been to keep his identity hidden. His unnatural right eye was disturbingly round—it was too perfect, too white to be a real eye, but with the lack of any left eye to compare it to the rabble of demons were left to wonder what truly lay behind that mask._

_The vengeful rebel emerged from the battlefield covered in only speckles of blood, and a proud roar went up from the rogues surrounding him. As the tale went, he only spared them the merest glance with that baleful, eerie eye before turning his back on them and walking onward through the surrounding gore. The demons charged forward, yelling out his name and thrusting their axes or knives or poorly-crafted swords into the air, proudly trailing after their leader(at a healthy distance), eager to continue what they saw as a bid for the throne of Makai. It was an opportunity to steal from those inhabiting Raizen's territory and take a bit of land for their own._

_It was a thousand and some hundreds of years before a would-be old kitsune would cross over to the Ningenkai, stealing the life of a common woman's fetus in order to save himself from death._

: : :

~Present Time~

'Kanisawa Takashi' only offered the brunette seated across from him an odd look, tilting his head in a bit of carefully-enacted curiosity.

"I'm sorry?" Shizuru's gaze narrowed, and she leaned forward, arms moving to rest over her knees.

"Don't play the innocent card, pal. It doesn't suit you." Here she straightened once more, fixing a cool glare on him. "I don't know what sort of drug you've given Suuichi—" He noticed her unhesitating, casual reference to Kurama's human name. How quaint that she thought he did not know the kitsune's real one! "—but if you don't fess up as to what sort of _shit_ you think you're pulling, I'm going to have to put a stop to this." He offered another perplexed glance towards her, then smiled slightly as though humoring groundless accusations.

"Ah… I am afraid you have mistaken me for someone else. Perhaps something is not quite agreeing with you?" She caught the jab, just below the radar, and he could see her lips moving as though fighting an oral fixation of some sort that was frustratingly absent. Her fingers twitched, as though wanting to hold a small object between them—he only caught that from the corner of his eye, though. She leaned in closer, her voice dropping a notch.

"You're playing a pretty dangerous game here if you think a psychic can't see what you really are." Those honey eyes were mere flecks of angered amber, now. Fascinating. She raised a hand, a single index finger rising to his forehead as though to touch it—ah, now. If she were a psychic, that would(not only explain a great many things, but) be an unforgivably stupid move on his part. The barest brush of contact could tell pages about an unprepared person. The brunet smiled benignly, once more, leaning back to avoid that digit with smooth nonchalance.

"Forgive me, but I do quite earnestly believe you're mistaken." She opened her mouth, and a fast movement had her catch his wrist in her hand. How complacent of him, to have the expectation of words work as an effective distraction. He felt a flood of warmth echo from that point of contact, and shut his mind quickly against it. He met her determined eyes and washed easily over the power of her will, threatening her identity and self all without uttering a word. What could a mere human hope to win over a youkai much more experienced in such matters? His eyes gleamed dangerously red in anger at her lack of respect. She was in over her head further than she could comprehend.

In the next instant she had released him, eyes jetting wide as she jerked back into her seat. He sensed the change in mood, detecting vulnerability and, unintentionally, his eyes hooded, dark lavender overtaking that brief flash of crimson as it leaked into his gaze. The demon shifted to account for her withdrawal, silky voice cool and logical as he moved to draw circles over the space of tablecloth with a trickle of the thwarted mind-bond she had tried to initiate, static of his gathered reiki crackling in the air. He did not miss the shiver that traveled over her shoulders, nor the feel of her mind solidifying itself against him. Had she never been mentally rebuffed, in such a way? Was she always the successful aggressor, believing her own power to be limitless? How proud she was, if she had indeed assumed such—or, perhaps she was merely loyal to a fault, willing to risk broaching her limits to help a friend.

Human motives were so very… mundane.

"I _did_ warn you. Please refrain from doing that in the future. I wouldn't wish for any harm to come to you." Dark eyes bore down upon her with an evil smile threatening to tug at the corners of his mouth. She looked up, momentary fear firmly squashed back into apathy as she crossed her arms once more, delicate fingers twitching again as though at a loss without a much-used object.

"Kurama-kun is smarter than you think, and stronger than I am. He'll realize it and find out who you are, eventually." He smiled—noting her usage of that name—easing back into deception and leaning to recline familiarly upon the backrest of the couch. Dark eyes flickered over her form from beneath onyx strands as though examining a particularly engaging specimen.

"I have no doubt of that." His tone was practically purring victory. "And, while I must commend your efforts, I would respectfully ask for you to remain silent about your… 'discovery'. It is a private matter between us, after all." She glared at him again, and he had to resist the urge to smirk.

"I'm going to tell him. He won't run into this blind."

"I would advise against that." Leisurely, he gazed at her from below as he stirred his tea, allowing the purple to glint dangerously in the shadow of his bangs. She fell silent, watching him. A long-repressed emotion curled a corner of his mouth upward in a satisfied leer. Ah, how he missed open manipulation.

"My secrecy was bought at a great price, although if you _do_ wish to have your identity and will stripped from you, then I have no qualms about you threatening to reveal what you know." She stared at him a long while—normal threats were useless against her, this he could tell from the start. This was the very reason he now offered her an indulgent smile. "It would be quite pleasant to have an assistant." He tried to word it as though he meant no harm—"accomplice" would have indicated a negative intention, and he did not need her any more suspicious of him than she already was.

This 'Shizuru' didn't need to know that it was hard(nearly impossible) for him to strip a human's identity without transferring his soul to their body—all she needed to believe was that it was possible. If she were this 'loyal friend', after all, she wouldn't wish to risk harming Kurama. That brief spurt of reiki he had used(most of his stock, to tell the truth) should be enough to intimidate and cause her to overestimate his power. He played his hand perfectly, and pinpointed the moment when she pressed her lips together in quiet frustration, reaching for her tea and still glaring at him as she raised the cup to sip at it.

Of course, she would likely still tell Kurama, anyway. He couldn't have that.

"I still don't trust you." He watched her swallow with morbid fascination, a grin curling his lips as she froze, eyes widening as the tea fell from limp fingers. She pitched forward, the cup landing with a dull thud and a muted spill over the carpet as he moved quickly around the table to catch her, murmuring sweetly in her ear as one of the many 'emergency' drugs he always carried on him took full effect, plummeting her mind into the haze of an overdose.

"As is prudent, of course—_Shizuru_-san."

~*~To Be Continued~*~


	15. Damaged

Disclaimer: I don't own Yuu Yuu Hakusho, or any of its characters. Those belong to Yoshihiro Togashi-sama, who made a lot more out of them than I ever could have. ^^;; I just do fanfiction for fun, and earn no monetary rewards for writing it. Reviews are, of course, worth as much as silver.

With this chapter, this fic is over 100,000 words(103,156 words, to be exact)! I feel accomplished. :3

[Also! First single story I've _ever_ written to reach six digits, word-wise. :33 Just thought I'd mention that. (I've been doing fanfiction since 2004, but writing since about 1994, and sooo~ I'm a little psyched about reaching this milestone. x3)]

Title: Second Try  
Chapter Fifteen: Damaged  
Word Count: 7,314  
[Total Word Count: 103,156]  
[Total AFF Hit Count: 1218]  
Anime: Yuu Yuu Hakusho  
Pairing: HieixKurama, KanisawaxKurama  
Warning: Angst, violence/gore, language, shounen ai, attempted non-con  
Author: Kita Kitsune  
Date: Monday(moon-day!), March 8, 2010  
Miscellaneous Notes: Wow, some of the girls really get beat up in this chapter! Sorry, but I think I was feeling rather violent. xD

More Notes(Friday, March 12, 2010): Whew, this chapter's got a lot of meat in it! Sorry if Koenma gets sort of wordy at the end, but then again he can be wordy, right? Especially when he's explaining something, got that dramatic flair, he does~ x3 I hope you guys love this chapter. I don't love-love it, but it's pretty high up there in my opinion of chapters for this fic. It makes me happy(could it be because of the plot development?)~!

Yet More Notes(Saturday, March 27, 2010): Well, the next chapter isn't done, but I know what I'm going to do with it. We're making up classes missed for snow days, today, so that'll be odd. D: Figure I'd post this for you guys now, in case I'm too worn out by this time tomorrow night—even though, as said before, Chapter Sixteen only has about three pages instead of the usual ten to thirteen. xD Sorry! I'll do my best to get it out on time, next month. Until then, I hope you enjoy this new chapter. (Forgive if it seems a bit convoluted, at the end? ;.; I tried to just clarify, but…) :3

_[Is it ironic I've __**just**__ discovered Lady Gaga(on her birthday, weird coincidence of all coincidences!)? –Or, is it __**more**__ ironic that all my favorite songs remind me of Karasu/Kurama(Bad Romance[both sides!], Poker Face[Karasu/Kurama], I Like It Rough[Kurama/Karasu], Paparazzi[Karasu/Kurama], Monster[Kurama/Karasu], Teeth[Karasu/Kurama])? xD Look, the fanfic is on the brain while I'm being distracted by pretty trendy music, at least~! She reminds me of Billy Joel, I think… professional artist-wise. Nothing else really fits, in that comparison(also, her support of both the Gay Rights and AIDs causes is cool). x3~ ]_

Even More Notes(Friday, October 15, 2010): Hey, FF dot net fans. This chapter has been up since March on AFF dot net, so I figured I'd update all of you. Not really writing for this at the moment, although I've got a wad of writing for it that's a chapter long (although I still need to cut it up into future chapters and do the fight scene for the next chapter...). Figured I'd throw you a bone. I really don't know when the next update will be, though. I like Hetalia now… a lot. j~j Curse my love of international relations and other cultures and languages! But hopefully I'll be able to balance out the two fandoms, soon. I suppose this is a thank you for reading, because it will be eventually updated when the Hetalia novelty wears off (or something like that happens...). I still really like YYH, this fic and all its psychology, and am thinking about it when I catch a moment.

Thanks to various-crimes, Vixen-Of-Ice and Gr1dsl for the reviews, for last chapter. It still sort of breaks my heart that the YYH fandom is slowly dying...

[ This fic (on FF dot net) has 9 Favorites, 11 Alerts and 27 reviews for 1051 hits (and 100,000+ words; been around since April 2009 on here), while my lengthy TWMCII Hetalia fic has 31 Favorites, 43 Alerts and 44 reviews for 3346 hits (and 60,000+ words; been around since May 2010 on here)... oh, YYH fans, I miss hearing from you guys and even just seeing your existence in the hit count. ;.; ] Enjoy this chapter, it may have to last you a very long, long time until another update. x.o;; (Hogod, I'm making this into the crazy wait similar to the one for saiyanb and updates on her fic, "The Meikai War"... It's a H/K one, still up on AFF dot net, go check it out. I highly recommend it, even if the updates have become very, very slow. The story is worth its unfinished state (I've been reading it since at least 2004, and there have only been a few updates since then...)~ :3)

: : : : : : :

~Present Time~

"Suuichi! Minamino-san! Kuwabara-san has collapsed!" They turned to one another, eyes wide. The redhead immediately rushed into the parlor, his mother taking the presence of mind to turn the stove off before hurrying to help, as well.

"Shizuru! …Shizuru!" He held a hand to her forehead as she lolled in Kanisawa's arms, mumbles escaping her lips as her speech slurred. Kurama tried to get her to sit up, but her muscles weren't responding well to movement, either. His eyes narrowed. What could have happened? The only other person in the room was Kanisawa-san, but he wouldn't… Pushing aside his misgivings, he pinned a serious stare onto the teen. Worried brown eyes met his own, mouth parting in hasty explanation.

"I don't know what happened, we were just sitting here—she took something with her tea, I'm not sure what it was…" The redhead began to look around in earnest, until a small vial was produced in front of his nose. He glanced up at the drawn face of the other boy, fraught with concern. "She dropped this when she fell, but it's unmarked, I don't know what's in it—she just suddenly went limp… I think she's unconscious—"

Shiori had entered the room, by this time(enough to hear that last comment), lifting a hand to her mouth in horror. She jarred out of her state at that, moving quickly back into the kitchen to snatch her cell phone from the table. Hastily she dialed the number for emergency, returning to the room and describing the situation as her boy and his friend tried to make the ill-taken young woman as comfortable as possible. She nodded, once, hanging up and pushing the phone into her pocket. The brunette grabbed her keys and shuffled past her son to the door, glancing back at them.

"We're taking her to the hospital. They think it might be a drug overdose. Bring that vial and carry her outside, I'll get the car ready—"

: : :

~A Few Hours Later~

They sat outside what had been designated as 'Kuwabara Shizuru-sama's room. She was asleep, and there were still nurses going in and out of it at frequent intervals, but they were growing slower. Kurama'd tried to contact Kuwabara-kun through the use of the communicator, but the damn thing was still on the fritz. Shiori had left a while ago, saying something about dropping by Shizuru's house and getting a few of her things. She'd also called Shizuru's father, and they were in part waiting for them both to show before they could leave. They were just holding down the fort.

The doctors had confiscated that vial, run some lab tests, and determined it was benzodiazepines that she'd overdosed on. What Shizuru was doing with such a drug was another matter entirely, it just meant they could treat her safely, having known what caused her symptoms.

He sighed, leaning his head back against the wall behind him. The chairs stationed outside of her room were anything but comfortable, but they would have to do. This particular discomfort did serve as an unwelcome reminder of nights not so long ago, though. Soft fingers dusted over his temple and a warm tingle followed in their wake. They brushed away rumpled hair and he tried to offer a smile, vision tiredly peeking out towards the concerned brunet beside him. Kanisawa's voice was soft.

"She'll be all right, Kurama. They know what caused it. She's just asleep…" The kitsune lifted a hand to squeeze the other's in gratitude, before shifting into a better position posture-wise, eyes falling off to the side.

"I know. This hospital just brings back bad memories." He could feel Kanisawa was on the verge of asking, but harsh footsteps down the hall caused them to look up. A well-built, lanky man was sprinting down towards them, and Kurama only had a moment to stand, eyes widening in recognition. The man nearly bowled him over as soon as he was on his feet, panting and pressing his hands into Kurama's shoulders. His eyes were wild, worried, filled with concern.

"Suuichi! How's Shizuru? Is she—" He tipped an apologetic smile towards the father.

"She's fine, Kuwabara-san, just sleeping right now. Were you able to find—"

"No, Kazuma's out somewhere. Damn kid should get a cell phone." The frazzled adult shook his head, then seemed to blink, staring slightly at the brunet who had risen politely to stand beside the redhead. Kurama blinked, then pinkened slightly at the attention paid.

"Ah, this is Kanisawa-san. He's—" A sly grin from the Kuwabaras' patriarch caused him to stop in his tracks. Clearly no explanation was necessary. A raspy laugh lit the air as he clapped the slender redhead on the shoulder.

"Heh, I see! Good you've found someone, Suuichi…" Softer footsteps drew the trio's attention, once more, and they all glanced up to see Shiori with a bag in her hands. She smiled, handing off the supplies to the dark-haired man, gently.

"I'm sorry to trouble you all with this." He sighed, running his free hand back through his mussed hair. He offered a crooked smile towards them. "You can go home, I'll stay here. I'm family after all, they can't turn me away!" He laughed, a sound full of forced cheer that nearly made them wince. He insisted, though, and soon they were called off, leaving the man to wait outside his daughter's hospital room in solitude.

: : :

The car ride back was uneventful. It was dark, by now—they'd been in the hospital for quite a few hours. Shiori had tried calling around to try to locate Shizuru's father, but his job was such that he happened to be unreachable for long stretches of time. Surely, it had all worked out, and his mother had managed to contact him and even bring him in—but it had been mind-numbingly stressful, all the same.

The silence, on Kanisawa's part, had been comforting. It seemed to help that there was a human around who did not abhor the lack of a conversation. Many people, the kitsune had noticed, tended to try to fill such lags with nervous chatter—but, Kanisawa had been refreshing. It had been late in the day—nearly evening—when they'd arrived at his home, and so by now it was quite late. It was a Sunday, tomorrow, too. Perhaps, if Kurama admitted it, he'd be weary. Kuwabara-kun's absence was frustrating, and might be a cause for worry… but at the moment, it was a bit too much to think of. He only half-noticed as he began to tip as the ride went on, subtly leaning against Kaniｓawa-san's shoulder where they sat, side-to-side, in the back. The lights of downtown Tokyo flashed past them, but he stubbornly refused the childish impulse to see how those shades were playing across the brunet's face. A hand snaked between them, cautious and hidden, should his mother glance back at them through the rearview mirror. The redhead stifled a small smile as cool fingers entwined with his own, allowing his eyes to fall shut with an exhausted sigh. The steady thrum of the moving car threatened to lull him to sleep—of course, experience and instinct outweighed any amount of weariness, so he didn't.

It was at least nice, though, that he felt comfortable enough in Kanisawa's presence to even be tempted to submit to unconsciousness. Something about his presence was soothing.

: : :

They shuffled inside as a bleary-eyed trio, two of them shedding their shoes for the house slippers awaiting their feet as Kurama's mother flicked on the light. She turned, seeming to gaze toward him in quiet surprise—ah, then it seemed to register. An apologetic curve began to sweep over her face, and she opened her mouth to— He beat her to it, bowing slightly and still not stepping out of the genkan and into the house proper, in order to speak.

"Minamino-san. I am sorry to have intruded on you for so long." He began to take out his cell phone, already punching the speed-dial number for his driver, dark eyes falling to the device. "I shall call home, and they'll send me a—"

"Oh, no, don't be silly!" He was forced to pause, at that, blinking towards her while trying… not to focus on her, too well. She still reminded him so much of his own mother.

"…Excuse me?" He glanced towards Kurama, unsure, eyes shifting back to the brunette before him. "—Ah, Minamino-san, you needn't feel that you need to put me up, overnight, I can call, it's really not a problem." He trailed off as brown eyes narrowed warmly at him—stubborn, but kind. Perhaps that was where Kurama got it?

"Kanisawa-san." She was insistent, polite, but firm, a smile pulling at her face despite the tone. "You have been a great deal of help, today, and must be just as exhausted as we are. It is also far too late for you to be on the streets. Who knows what kind of characters are about, at this hour!" He tried not to think too deeply into her implications, lest he not be able to keep the irony of her statement from his expression. "You will stay here, I'm sure Suu-kun won't mind." She peered good-naturedly towards her son, who, embarrassed, averted his eyes. A soft laugh—oh, but she was tired, too. Perhaps that was why she sought to tease, in such a way? It might seem to alleviate the seriousness of the day, if a normal mannerism was called into existence. She waved a hand, heading up the stairs and offering no room for argument, lest he be inclined to be 'rude' and refuse her kind offer.

"Please take him upstairs, won't you?" At this, the redhead seemed to start awake, and rushed to the bottom of the stairs.

"'kaasan! You don't mean that—" The reincarnated crow couldn't quite see Shiori's face from where he was, but he heard her words, well enough. Her tone was kind.

"I was your age, once, too, Suu-kun. So long as you don't disrespect this household, I don't mind if you two share your room. It will be like a sleepover! Isn't that right, Kanisawa-san?" That last comment was a little louder, but more amused than accusatory. He shifted to the foot of the stairs beside Kurama, plastering on a thankful smile and bowing at the brunette standing above them, in the second floor.

"Of course, Minamino-san. Thank you for your hospitality." She smiled, nodding at him and disappearing into the hall—likely towards her room. He had to wonder what ramifications this would bring, in the morning—it might not be pretty. He would have to leave early, if he wished to have the family's breakfast and morning schedules finished. They treated him like a butler, and it might bring annoying repercussions if he disrupted their daily expectations. The brunet had to shake his head, though, casting a glance to the fox at his side—he fought a smile.

Well. At least tomorrow's peace would be sacrificed for something worthy. First, a bit of acting was in order, though. A soft cough announced his intent, and jade fell suspiciously upon him. Of course—he was a 'regular' human teenager, and so naturally Kurama would mistake the train of his thoughts. The reincarnated crow offered the most sincere smile he had to offer.

"Kurama, if you're uncomfortable with that, I can easily take the couch." He gestured behind him, allowing his gaze to fall to the side with a small blush. "I mean, I wouldn't want to force anything on you too soon. Even if—" He was interrupted by a hand taking the one he'd gestured with, and surprised brown blinked up to take in a suddenly-much-warmer shade of green. It was like a lush meadow in summer—waxing too poetic for a moment there, he focused on the kitsune's next words. Kurama's tone was soft.

"Kanisawa-san… No, it's all right. After all, we're 'dating', aren't we?" He cast a hurried, reddened look towards the fox, stuttering as his fingers flailed futilely in the redhead's hold.

"N-No, I mean—Yes, but I don't mean—I… if you—" This time, the fox's chuckles broke through his perfect façade. Those slender digits curled further, that kind smile slipping slightly and growing fonder as the fox began to turn, practically pulling him along behind, and up the stairs.

"It's perfectly fine, you know. Let's see if we can find you something to wear, shall we~?"

He allowed himself one small, self-satisfied smirk aimed at the back of the kitsune's head—but the only real response was in how he so-tentatively made himself return the hold, as a quiet, shy assent to the redhead's suggestion made its way to be heard over their soft footfalls.

: : :

~A Few Days Earlier~

She shivered—a sensation wholly new to her, but the dungeon suddenly felt much less accommodating than it had, only moments before. A shadow before the door interrupted her thoughts, and hard, defiant crimson eyes rose to take in the ungodly smile stretching the tall human's chiseled face.

"Well, isn't that a fierce stare." He murmured, stepping closer as he closed the door and locked it, behind him. The light dimmed, casting her into the shadow of his bulky form as he strode forward, that leer turning uglier by the second. Instinctively, Yukina curled a hand around a rock as she straightened, still seated, even as she tried her best to keep the brave glare she currently held. Toguro Ani's grin grew wider.

She raised her chin proudly as he at last reached her and kneeled down to her level, cooing at her, despite the koorime's silence.

"Don't you want to escape? I know you've been healing yourself. Why haven't you tried?" He reached a hand down, and she fought off a flinch as the large fingers caressed the bruised skin of one of her ankles. The pain was irrelevant—his touch brought more agony than anything else. He was right, though. She narrowed her eyes, raising her head higher. Over the past few days, she'd tried harder not to react, slipping partially back into that state of disassociation that had served her well during her prior imprisonment. With no birds or small animals here to be harmed, she could defy without worry for punishment of innocent others. She owed her brother and his suffering that much. She would not break, here, in the dirt, like this. Let him kill her if she did not bend. She was finished with cowering. It brought him more joy to see fear in her eyes, anyway.

"I would not get far before the others would stop me." Her soft voice belied the ice lingering just beneath it, and her knuckles whitened around the rock they held, angled just behind her so he could not see. He would assume the hand was empty on the floor, helping her keep her balance. She did not try to look at the door, knowing every movement was being observed and might give her away. Toguro put a hand to his chin, nodding thoughtfully. It looked sickening on the innocent human's face. The poor boy.

Her heart ached for a moment, remembering Kuwabara. Perhaps the bulky boy before her had been as he was? Perhaps he was a gentle soul, hidden beneath an outer shell of staggering height and masculine pride. Perhaps Kuwabara should have come with her… but, no, it was too late for regrets, now. It was too late for this. Fisting her fingers around the rock once more, she shifted as the surviving Toguro brother spoke.

"Mm, that's correct… well, now." He grinned at her, and the digits yet resting on her ankle began to push upward. Her eyes widened in unintentional surprise, breaking her mask for a moment and he laughed at her, leaning in. "I've beaten you up, pretty well. I think I'll indulge myself with a taste of what so few men have had." The blood began to leave her face, a result of sheer terror upon realizing where his thoughts were headed as well as white hot fury begging to lash out. She didn't move as his breath approached her. "Mmm, yes. Koorime, isn't that what you are? Maybe you'll even give me some pretty tears to get rich on." His face was right on hers, his putrid breath in her face—and she found herself, again. Glaring coldly, and gripping the rock so tightly she cut into her own hand, her tone was as frigid as the peaks of those rarely-seen mountains on Hyouga.

"I refuse." He was still grinning at her as she brought around her arm, smashing him in the temple with the jagged stone. The act of violence only worked because he'd not been expecting it. She had restrained herself during her captivity as the idea slowly blossomed in her mind. She did not like it—but, survival dictated her actions. She did not like causing pain, but in self-defense she must. Besides, he would heal quickly enough.

Thrusting the guilt from her mind at harming an innocent bystander—the human whose body Toguro had stolen—her small hands quickly patted around in Toguro's pockets, searching for the key. Quickly rising to her feet—as she'd done every day, pacing in the cell when Toguro was not around, to keep up her muscle strength—she stumbled a bit from the pain of the injuries that had weakened her over the past few days(she couldn't heal all of them, completely), but kept on. She had just made it to the door, was just lifting the key ring to insert the right one into the lock—

Long, fleshy spindles impaled the metal ring and went straight through it and into the door. Freezing, she glanced quickly behind her, hiding her fear in another moment as the behemoth rose in anger behind her. One large hand cupped the body-stealer's bloody temple, pure rage filtering through his expression as those normal fingers almost covered one eye. The other hand's fingers were extended, gruesomely, in Toguro's trademark trick—they were shaking, now, in utter fury, still stuck in the metal door. Smoothly, she moved from it, off to the side and into the darkness for cover as he bellowed at her.

"Icy bitch! C'mere and I'll _show_ you pain! You think it hurt _before_—!" She tried to dodge, but in another instant he was upon her—she'd had training, but it had been so long and she was slow where Toguro could be frighteningly fast. He tore the remains of her clothes—absently, she was glad she'd had the fortitude to take off her cloak. It lay in the corner, soiled, but still very much in one piece. She was also comforted by the fact she had taken to wearing her mother's hiruiseki backwards, so now, even with her clothing gone, he would not know she wore it, distracted with 'other pursuits' as he was. Yukina took the abuse passively, staring up at him coldly as he divested her of her clothing until she lay in only tattered scraps of fabric. Her nudity did not shame nor bother her, and she stared straight up into his eyes, unflinching. He would discover soon enough, another secret of their Sisterhood.

He grinned, leering at her lack of resistance despite the icy eyes resting upon him. He grabbed her breasts—she did not flinch or react. Tutting, he squeezed them, molding them for a moment—before he stopped. They were cold. The teats beneath him weren't soft and giving like most of the women he'd had—they were like little mounds of dead flesh. Was that a bit of frost on the nipple? His leer gave way to a confused frown, and he actually looked at her face.

She was watching him, calmly. Far too calmly for someone about to be raped. Feeling uneasy, but going straight for it, he shot a hand down between her legs and felt through the cold folds for the entrance he knew—he paused, blinking. The barest hint of a smirk ghosted a corner of the ice apparition's face. He tried to push his fingers in, where he _knew_(from much experience) there should be give. Nothing. It was like trying to push past a brick wall. Frustrated and still angry, he glared down at her, demanding an explanation. The girl's voice was soft when it escaped in its own sweet time, her red eyes bearing up at him and beginning to twinkle with a hint of arrogance.

"No Koorime has ever been taken against her will, Toguro. I doubt you shall be the first." Annoyed, he grit his teeth and tried again. Push, push. Nothing! Where there should be warmth and wetness, only icy dryness met his insistent hands. He looked down, to confirm. Yes—the tips of his fingers had parted her labia, but had been denied any further access. He looked up again, and there was now a cool smirk on the ice maiden's dirtied and bruised face. He felt his full rage returning, at that look. Bellowing, he lunged at her face, clawed fingers lengthening into deadly needles.

"_Get that look off your face, you half-breed __**nothing**__!_"

: : :

A bloodcurdling scream echoed through the hallways, and Mitarai and Amanuma jerked. Mitarai spun around, dropping the controller as Itsuki glanced quietly behind them towards the caves. Sensui kept his eyes on the screen before them. Amanuma had never stopped playing—it was a racing video game, and he was currently beating the shaken Mitarai who hadn't dared pick up his controller, again. The blond's lips where white, and he hastily glanced back towards their leader. Sensui seemed uncaring, but offered a low comment to the teal-haired demon standing just behind the couch, and off to his side.

"You'd best go rescue her. The game is about to end." With a glance towards the pale Mitarai and the absorbed Amanuma, Itsuki nodded slightly before strolling leisurely away down the pathway to the caves. Still watching Amanuma calmly swerving various obstacles on-screen, Sensui addressed the nervous blond—who dropped his regained controller(again) as soon as the older man spoke.

"How long has she been here?"

"'few days." Amanuma answered, without too much thought, the kid completely concentrated on the game.

"A-Ah, yes! She has!" Mitarai nodded when Sensui's gaze at last shifted to him, then glanced back towards the caves, once more.

"Did she give her name?"

"Yukina, sir!" Trying to make up for his previous demonstration of weakness, the blond was quick to reply, this time. Sensui closed his eyes.

Yukina. Hadn't Toguro mentioned something about her being a girlfriend to one of Urameshi's group? Something about the tall, loud one gaining strength in a tough moment of a match and foolishly rushing to greet her before his opponent was even defeated. Kuwabara—that was it. He opened his eyes, again, smiling slightly. Mitarai, who'd been watching him, grinned anxiously in response.

"Tell Makihara to meet with me. I need to have a private talk with him." With that, the tall man rose, unfolding his long legs and walking casually off towards his personal quarters. A few minutes after he'd disappeared, Makihara stormed out of the lower dungeons. Mitarai attempted to speak up, but the words choked in his throat when he saw the blood streaked down the taller boy's shirt and arm. He paled, stumbling backward. Without glancing back, Amanuma's bored voice broke the silence as the boy pressed a few more buttons and his car crossed the finish line on the screen with a record time—as always.

"Sensui-san wants to talk to you." A livid glare was aimed towards the two boys, and Mitarai flinched, retreating further as Amanuma just ignored the heated eyes in his back, going about pressing more buttons to start another race. The tall, broad-shouldered boy stormed off, again, vanishing into the darkness that led to their leader's part of the cave.

: : :

Pain. It infiltrated every pore of her existence, ripping into her face and leaving a searing emptiness that was all too soon filled with gushing blood. She shoved Toguro off of her with a blast of ki, cupping a hand to her face and attempting to heal herself as she sat up, breathing raggedly. Hot, thick fluid seeped through her fingertips and onto her bare chest, but she couldn't care less. All that encompassed her world was pain.

Laughter. Glancing up with her one uncovered eye, her disoriented gaze swayed over to the hazy form of Toguro Ani, mostly concealed by darkness. He was holding something up, waving it in the lack of light. He was laughing, shrieking laughter that reverberated off the walls and hurt her ears. In another few moments, the door had swung open, offering the grisly scene some light. The small sphere Toguro held in his fingers was raised perfectly, the lines of light shining past the glistening object.

She paled, freezing as she recognized it for what it was, and the trauma of the past few minutes caught up to her. Knowing she was watching, he slowly began to squeeze the orb, intending to ruin it—a voice at the door stopped him, cold.

"Shinobu knows. Your game is over. Give her back her eye, Toguro." He sneered at the demon in the doorway, and she glanced towards the—the demon, from before. She blinked, wincing in pain when she accidently did so for the gaping hole that had once housed an eye. The true extent of the damage was still hidden behind her hand, even as blood dripped from her curved, crimson-soaked knuckles. Toguro swore, standing and tossing the eye at the demon in the doorway. She cried out, softly—wanting to go for it, to save it before it hit the dirty ground—but it was unneeded. The teal-haired youkai somehow caught it, and stepped past Toguro's fuming frame as the taller demon exited.

He quickly stepped over to her, noting her state of undress, but taking more important factors into hand. He peeled away the cupped hand from her face and she let him, closing her one good eye in pain at what must greet his sight.

"You're a healer. See if you can at least reattach it." She blinked open that one good eye as she felt him pressing the ruined one back in from where it had been taken. Gritting her teeth, she widened her eyeless, bleeding hole as best she could despite the excruciating pain yet thrumming through her. At last, it was in and she shut the lid over it, cupping both hands to the injured right side of her face and forcing out all the remaining energy she had. She willed the eye to reattach, not allowing despair over such an intricate organ being able to fully function after being so ripped out to diminish her efforts. Slowly, although nevertheless agonizingly, she felt the nerve endings begin to rejoin. It still felt as though it had been ripped out, and she dare not open her right lid lest it topple from the socket. She felt the teal-haired demon move from her side, then. He returned with her cloak, draping it around her shoulders with a soft whisper in her ear.

"I'm sorry. We did not mean for this to happen. I will get you some bandages for your eye." As he rose to leave, she caught the hem of his clothing with one drenched hand, her left eye pleading up at him, voice hoarse from the long-standing scream of pain she had emitted as Toguro's fingers sank into her eye socket and ripped out the optic. She didn't even notice as she stained her rescuer's white robes with the imprints of her bloody fingertips.

"Please. Don't leave me here." He regarded her for a moment, before nodding. Gently, he scooped her petite frame into his arms and quietly rearranged her cloak so that it covered her modesty. He strode out into the hallway, heading for a little-used cave closer to the main room. There were bandages and generic medical supplies in there, for when Kamiya visited to check on Shinobu's condition. They would come into good use, now. A soft voice from his arms shifted, faint and small.

"The air out here… it's like home—" He continued walking, careful not to jostle the petite koorime as he answered her, voice monotone and careful not to give away anything.

"Yes. Nostalgic, isn't it?"

: : :

~Present Time~

He smiled, slowly. The most recent name on his list of patients was convenient, indeed. It brought the detectives well within reach of his Territory—of which they likely knew nothing of. The doctor chuckled, flipping the chart closed as he slowly strolled off down the hallway. It would separate the infamous detective team Sensui had told them so much about. The Kuwabara boy would be forced to come to his sister's aid, and the fox would feel obligated to help. It was so much easier with Urameshi-kun and the fire demon out of the way. The other three fighters of their group could easily handle two out of the four. He and Hagiri would take out the rest, while their defenses were weak. Urameshi-kun and the Jaganshi were easily the most powerful of the detective group, after all.

The brunet hid his self-satisfied, sadistic smirk as he approached the worried-looking father loitering outside her room. He smiled in a friendly manner, sticking out his hand in a Western greeting.

"Kuwabara-san. I am sorry we had to meet like this. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Kamiya Minoru, Shizuru-sama's doctor. We are doing everything in our power to help her to recover. There is really no reason to worry. I have many years of experience, and she is in the best of hands." The relieved father didn't catch the unkind glint edging the doctor's false smile as they shook hands.

Oh, yes. They would take _very_ good care of her, indeed.

: : :

~A Few Hours Later~

It was dark outside. Late. Like all good students, after a full evening of studying she'd headed for bed early. For a moment Keiko wondered what had prompted her to wake—hearing a tapping at the window, she slowly rose to a sitting position, pushing the comforter onto her lap and rubbing at one bleary eye as she tried to make out the source of the sound. A little coo and a flap of puffy wings soon accompanied the tapping. Oh. She blinked, vision focusing at last.

Puu was earnestly trying to either open or break the window, pecking and hurtling himself against the glass in vain attempts to go through it. She put a hand to her mouth, hiding a smile and half a yawn, as she stood up, walking over to the sill. Big brown eyes looked up at her imploringly, and for a moment the brunette was startled by just how _like Yuusuke_ that little creature's gaze could be.

"Do you want some fresh air, Puu-chan?" She whispered, slowly moving to open the window and a current of chill air washed through the room. Shivering, she cast her vision back towards the blue penguin—only to blink. He was almost completely out of the room, wriggling through the tiny gap of the parted window and she gasped, delicately lunging for him and trying to pull him back into the warmth of her bedroom. She chided him softly, half-hissing but trying not to disturb her parents who were tucked in their own beds, by now.

"N—No, Puu-chan! You can't go outside! Someone might see you, and—" Just like all her lectures to Yuusuke, pleading was pointless. He was a bit too far out of the window for her to get a good grip and catch him. The tiny creature flapped up into the air on the other side of the window, glancing back at her only once before jetting off in some godforsaken direction.

"Puu-chan!" She hastily threw on her robe and thumped down the stairs in a rush—not even bothering to slip out of her house shoes—fumbling with the lock on the storefront's door before almost tripping into the deserted street. She ran to the edge of the building, trying desperately to locate a lighter dot of moving blue against the darkened sky. "Puu-chan!"

Keiko dared not call any louder than before, but she might as well have. Clutching her robe around her, she stared up at the sky, only mildly aware when the lights clicked on in the window of her parents' room, and then the store below.

"Keiko?" Her mother's soft voice brought her back, and she started, smiling reflexively towards the woman, even as her eyes were sad. Puu-chan was always a reminder of Yuusuke when he wasn't around, and to have him abandon her like that… The brunette's response was cut off by the loud ringing of the phone, and surprised, her mother hurried back inside to answer it. Given a few more moments' reprieve, the honors student gazed in a last, vain attempt to locate the tiny spirit beast, but—

Her mother's voice raised a notch, and Keiko forced herself to scurry back inside, shutting the door and locking it, her back to the phone conversation taking place behind her.

"Oh, I—! No—yes, of course we'll keep a look-out for him! Do you need any help? I see. No, it's no trouble at all! We'll be right down!" As the sound of the phone returning to the cradle echoed through the otherwise-quiet store, the teenager turned back to her mother. The older woman's face had paled. The teenager's expression asked the question for her.

"That was Kuwabara-san. Shizuru's in the hospital!"

: : :

~Present Time~

The room had gone silent. The godling was standing, shoulders canted at an angle opposite to that of his hips, slowly massaging a temple with one hand. The other arm was crossed over his abdomen. Amber eyes were shut, his brow knotted just beneath the 'Jr' mark adorning his forehead. The papers he'd been rolling over for hours were strewn upon the floor in front of him, hap-hazardly—as though he'd tossed them there in a sharp moment of frustration.

The other three were silent, although the ferry girl was having a difficult time restraining herself from an outburst. They'd divided up the list of deaths collected on the last day of the Dark Tournament, and they'd searched for Karasu's soul, seeking confirmation that he was safely sentenced to one of the deeper layers of Reikai. Meirin clutched the papers she'd gone over in both hands, brown eyes wide and frightened of the silence and what it implied. Minamino Matsuo's ghost sat on his chair, arms crossed over his front as a dark frown lit his extraterrestrial face.

They'd looked through the lists, once. Upon finding nothing, Koenma had demanded they hand off their list to the person on their right, and look through them again. Once again not finding the name they sought, he'd ordered them to rotate the papers, again. After the third time, though… the brunet had thrown his papers to the floor, and taken up the stance he currently held.

Botan clutched her own papers, white knuckles almost tearing the thick collection of sheets, watching as her boss suffered and beat around the implications in his mind.

She couldn't stand it, anymore! Kurama was in danger! There was a loud flutter of paper as her section of the list was thrown, exasperatedly, into the air.

"Koenma-sama!" She rushed over to him, voice emotional and almost on the verge of hysterics. "Koenma-sama! We have to warn Kurama-kun! If Karasu's following him, then we can't afford to—"

"Botan." (She didn't even hear Koenma as he tried to interrupt her.)

"—wait another minute! I know it's hard to believe, but if his soul isn't here then it's very likely that—"

"Botan…" (Minamino-san's voice was soft, trying to be of comfort, but—)

"—he's the one that's been following Kurama-kun around! I won't let that sick, sadistic crow torment him any more than he's already been! You heard what Minamino-san said! Meirin-chan's brother's acting strange, almost stalking Kurama-kun, and if, if—"

"Botan-san!" She was tackled by the small form of Meirin, the ghost-girl sobbing into her kimono. Forced to deflate, the blue-haired ferry girl rested her hands on the shaking preteen's shoulders, bringing a tearful gaze up to her employer, face drawn into a few wrinkles as twin droplets snuck down her cheeks. Koenma had long since settled a quiet stare on her, the fingers massaging his temple dropped down to his side in defeat. When he spoke, his tone was low and resigned.

"Botan. We can't tell Kurama." She was about to scream at him for that, but he held up a hand, shaking his head. "…I know. I _know_, Botan!" He sounded frustrated for a minute there, but soon regained his composure, taking a breath and glancing towards her, once more.

"We have no proof that that is Karasu's soul in Kanisawa's body. What would Kurama do if you sped down to him and told him the boy is that demon in disguise, eh?" The demi-god pinned a fierce, annoyed look at her. "With no evidence to offer him, Kurama would have no reason to believe us. He'd be right! There are thousands of souls out there—the odds that it would be Karasu are minute. It's too coincidental, despite our suspicions. The odds that Kurama wouldn't believe us are very high, Botan! He's smart—" Here the brunet shook his head, again, gaze casting away. "—too smart to take our words as infallible, even if we are his friends."

"B-But, Koenma-sama! Then we should just arrest Kanisawa on the grounds that he's a human housing a youkai soul, and I'm sure he's killed someone by now, I mean after all it's _Karasu_, so he—"

"That he's a human is the problem!" Koenma grit his teeth and glared at her, his hand balling into a fist at his side. "Karasu, if he is indeed the one posing as Kanisawa Takashi, has not killed anyone. He has not been responsible for a single human death." He nodded solemnly at Meirin and her tear-streaked face as it poked out of Botan's kimono to protest.

"I know, Meirin-san. Do you remember that orange oni who came in, when Botan was off getting the list?" The silent girl nodded again, quickly. "He checked the reports for me, and the readings that came through were that your brother's soul was still the dominant one in his body when you died." His eyes grew softer, sadder, his tone delicate. "According to Reikai, it was not the demon currently possessing your brother's body who killed you, as that demon was not yet the dominant soul in the body when your death occurred." He shook his head, again. Bureaucracy—as though any true brother would kill his sister!—had made Reikai laws firm and absolute, especially when they pertained to humans. "Humans kill humans all the time—and that type of crime is out of our jurisdiction. I'm sorry." Meirin burst into fresh tears, at this, and Botan was forced to take her out of the room, the girl still clinging to her clothing. The shinigami cast a worried glance towards Koenma, but he waved her out, distracted with his thoughts.

When they were alone, Matsuo let his gaze fall upon the obviously stressed godling.

"What else about his being human presents a problem?" Koenma nodded, running a hand back through his hair, gaze slivered off to the side in hidden anger as he regained his train of thought.

"Yes. As Reikai now recognizes the being Kanisawa Takashi as having a youkai soul with a human body—if he were to kill a human, now, we could arrest him. However, as we have no reason to pursue him, we cannot. The stubborn problem lies in the fact he inhabits a human body." The sound of his jaw clicking the brunet's teeth together in a grind was almost palpable.

"We came across the same problem with Kurama when we settled on his punishment for stealing the Three Artifacts. He inhabits a human body, despite having a youkai soul, and so certain restrictions apply to his case. The only difference here, is that whoever has possessed Kanisawa Takashi's body has committed no real _crime_ since he did so. Listed in his file in the past few months are involvements with drug trafficking, the yakuza, and other crimes specific to Ningenkai. Such crimes are punishable only by Human World authorities—most commonly the police—as they lack any supernatural aspects. Unlike Kurama and his thievery of a _Reikai_ vault, this new soul has done nothing to justify a Spirit World arrest warrant." Setting his jaw, Koenma brought up a serious stare to the concerned—albeit deceased—father's gaze.

"The other sticker is that we have no proof it is actually _Karasu_ possessing Kanisawa. Kanisawa has not acted like Karasu did, before his death. The personality traits that would clearly identify the soul of Karasu as the soul possessing Kanisawa are conspicuously absent. Kanisawa has also shown not a glimmer of hostile youki, only strange reiki, and has not displayed the tendencies towards insanity that Karasu so blatantly flaunted. Kanisawa is acting like an abnormal human teenager, but a human teenager nonetheless." He frowned, shoving his hands into the pockets of his pants as he continued his explanation.

"The circumstances suggest it is likely this is Karasu, given Kanisawa's newfound obsession with Kurama since his possession. If we don't have a way to convince Kurama of our story, though—it would hurt our side more to warn him, now." The brunet bowed his head, fingernails digging into his palm where he had them curled. "If we warned him now, without sufficient evidence, Kurama would have less reason to believe us in the future. He's proud." It was a grim statement of fact. He'd watched every match of the Dark Tournament. The reformed youko felt compassion like no other demon he'd seen, but he trusted his own judgments and instincts above others'—even those close to him, like Yuusuke or Hiei.

"If Karasu's somehow taken steps such that Kurama isn't able to sense him—which is likely, otherwise Kurama would have recognized his energy signature at first glance and dispatched him right away—it's tricky. Kurama won't believe anything with just blind faith, as he's not the type to risk making the wrong conclusion based on iffy information." The kitsune's centuries of life as a successful thief, where he could have been deceived by faulty sources or information that was suspect, were testament to that line of thinking. "—and, we have no proof it's Karasu's soul in Kanisawa's body. Without evidence, our speculations and conclusions—however close to the truth they may be—mean nothing."

Koenma sounded bitter.

"We will have to wait until Kanisawa makes a move that enables us to act against him. Until then, we can only watch."

That bitterness lingered in the air long after the demi-god's last words on the subject were uttered, as there was no doubt how bad that 'act' would have to be for Reikai to become involved.

By then, it might be too late.

~*~To Be Continued~*~


	16. Artifice

Disclaimer: I don't own Yuu Yuu Hakusho, or any of its characters. Those belong to Yoshihiro Togashi-sama, who made a lot more out of them than I ever could have. ^^;; I just do fanfiction for fun, and earn no monetary rewards for writing it. Reviews are, of course, worth as much as silver.

Back to using the original summary(for chapter one): _In the morning I see you against the dawn. You are stubborn, unyielding, firm. You are the other half of my restless soul. You are... Gone._

Title: Second Try  
Chapter Sixteen: Artifice  
Word Count: 7,327  
[Total Word Count: 110,483]  
[Total AFF Hit Count: 1509]  
Anime: Yuu Yuu Hakusho  
Pairing: HieixKurama, KanisawaxKurama  
Warning: Angst, language, shounen ai/BL  
Author: Kita Kitsune  
Date: Sunday(sun-day!), April 17, 2011  
Miscellaneous Notes: And… this chapter is finished~ Hopefully I will get this up within the week(preferably after I have the next chapter all written, of course). The more-recently-written parts of this chapter are dedicated to the fans of YYH who attended Tekko 2011 and helped inspire me to get back into the fandom. I name DigitalSaga here on FF(especially for all your supportive and amazing reviews, even if I haven't responded!), the Hiei I found to cosplay to my Kurama(a friend on AIM and dA—you know who you are) and the friend I talked to Friday night about this fic, who helped me knock down some major roadblocks. Thank them for this update (and hopefully soon there will be many more). :3

More Notes(Tuesday, March 30, 2010): I am such a literary geek, I got sidetracked(FOR DAYS!) deciding what books to list as present on Kurama's bookshelf. You have no idea how funny that is(especially since I haven't read any 'real' books—barring Harry Potter and class required readings—since I started reading/writing fanfiction…). I highly recommend both of the ones mentioned(go Wiki the titles if you don't know them, you lazy people… xD), though~!

Yet More Notes(Saturday, April 24, 2010): I can recite all fifty states in twenty-one seconds(on the audio file, I started once I saw it'd recorded one second of silence). xD Damn, you Hetalia fandom. Distracting me from writing~ Also, school. Only the Japanese oral exam and a paper left, now~! :3 This chapter is almost done(seven pages or so), but I'll likely break parts of it up into future chapters, so…

Even More Notes(Saturday, April 16, 2011): Hello there. :3 Almost a year since I stopped writing for this fic, and here I am, writing for it, again~ Be aware, the first few pages are all stuff I wrote in April 2010, so I apologize for any great style-shift you may notice after them~ x.o;; (It's fun to be writing for YYH, after so long. I'm so happy I got reinspired to write for this fic, again~ :333 )

Yet Even More Notes(Sunday, May 15, 2011): Hi, FF-dot-net-ers~! :D Long time, no see~! Yay, back to writing for this. Chapter seventeen's done, too, so hopefully the next wait won't be so long~! x.o;; Super-extra-special thanks to DigitalSaga on here, for her review of ALL fifteen chapters in less than two weeks, and also of course Vixen-of-ice. :3 Hope you're still around by now! x/x~ Please excuse any craziness in the narrative, as half of this was written year ago, while the other half was written much more recently... x.o;;; ( :3~ )

: : : : : : :

_ The youko met Yomi when the younger demon sought him out, after he had left the ninjas(he had grown bored with them and their set ways after a century or two, and—after he promised never to speak of their sect to anyone—he was let go on rather congenial terms). Yomi's uncle was the youkai who had brought him from Dura-shihan's to the temple. Kurama had seen him a few times, visiting his uncle. Back then, the goat youkai was still only a child, with but two small nubs of growing horns that sprouted from either side of his forehead—but he was instantly drawn to Kurama, due to the stories his uncle would tell. _

_ Kurama had been toying with the idea of seeking fame and fortune around the time Yomi ran into him(the goat demon well into adulthood, by now). The silver youko had gathered a small group of youkai—clothing them all in the same gauzy white clothing he wore, himself—and had a few bases sprinkled all around Makai, in preparation for this new profession. It was at one of these that Yomi was caught. When Kurama returned to that base with his group for a much-needed rest, the plants he had left behind to guard it had a rather bedraggled-looking goat demon trapped in their clutches. He had been ready to decapitate the idiotic demon right there, but Yomi had scrambled out his explanation, admiration shining in his eyes against the youko's cold look._

_ After a considering day or two, Kurama freed the youkai and allowed him entrance. It was from there they truly began to plan heists. And it was from Yomi, that Kurama heard of the numerous unguarded mansions settled around Makai, riches just waiting to be plucked and plundered from their careless owners. And so at first, they stole from abandoned homes, only. As time went on and Youko Kurama's name became more widespread amidst whispering nobles, however, security began to tighten. Soon these abandoned homes grew boring, and Youko began to stealthily plan to infiltrate the more extravagant, spacious mansions which still had inhabitants. In those days he did not make friends with those of higher rank—those demons deemed 'royalty' due to claiming a link to Raizen's or Mukuro's bloodlines. Naturally, these demon nobles were too low to actually be of any relation to the two great rulers, but their claims gained them the respect of less-powerful and less-intelligent youkai who pledged to serve them. They began to amass wealth, and grew lazy—until Kurama's legend began to grow. _

_ Every now and then, their group would run into a powerful demon and the youko would be forced to step out of the shadows and fight. Some of these he won, some lost, some he scarcely managed to escape. Yomi was not always on missions with him—scarcely anyone was. There were even heists the youko pulled on his own, secret missions that no one knew of until he returned to the base with a priceless treasure tucked into the folds of his white clothing. As time went by, he grew more powerful, and the number of successful heists grew more numerous—and his name became synonymous with thievery._

: : :

~A Few Hours Earlier(than Yuusuke and Hiei's Present Time)~

"W-W-What? Kurama, I—" The kitsune tugged impatiently at the boy's sleeve, nonetheless unable to keep a sly twitch of amusement from quirking a corner of his lips upward.

"Kanisawa-san. Hurry and get in the shower, so I can wash your clothes. I can lend you enough for one night until they're dry again, but if you're any ruder 'kaasan might decide to forgo tradition and go first. They may be different bathrooms, but the hot water only lasts for so long, after all—"

"All right!" It was endearing how the poor boy's pale skin was flushed the deep magenta of embarrassment, and his hands were waved off as the boy stomped through the door of the Western-style bathroom leading into his room. The door slammed shut, sulkily, and—now alone—Kurama smirked. Human teenagers, really… He had to chuckle when the door flung itself open once more, the sought-for clothes landing in a heap before it as it shut tightly, once again. Shaking his head, the fox walked forward to collect the discarded garments—but then, he perked his ears, hearing muttering just on the other side of the wood. The grin was in his voice as he called, teasingly, to his friend.

"If you'd like, I could find a clean pair of underwear for you to—"

"NO!" The voice sounded appalled. The redhead chuckled, fully aware that his guest would hear it, this time.

"It'd be no trouble, at all, really~" He heard mutterings again, and then the sound of the shower turning on. Hm. That was that, apparently. Expression still lit with a small glow of mirth, he strode outside into the hallway, heading downstairs for the washer. Shiori blinked at him over the mound of the spare futon found in the guest room that weighed down her arms, chin nearly obscured by the fluffy comforter.

"Suu-kun… ?" He smiled at her, canting his head, slightly.

"Merely washing Kanisawa-san's clothes, so he has something to wear when he leaves, tomorrow." She smiled at him in return, then, and glanced towards the small pile of fabric.

"Ah… I can do that. Why don't you take this upstairs and lay it out for him?" He nodded—inwardly agreeing, and not liking the idea of his frail, aging mother ascending the steps with every possibility of tripping(due to the unwieldy futon, of course). The redhead set the garments atop the closed washer, then finagled a bit to take the entire futon from her without dropping anything. He bowed his head, if only slightly and from ingrained habit, towards the brunette before him.

"Doumo, 'kaasan."

"Ieie, you just take care of your friend, Suu-kun~" The smile was in her voice as he ascended the stairs, once more. Upon entering his bedroom, he found the shower still running—and so set the futon on the floor, going about locating a long shirt and loose pants that the other could use for sleepwear. Upon success, he set them on his desk before taking to hunting about for a spare towel in the linen closet(just outside, in the hallway). Satisfied with both of these finds—and that he had taken a short enough time that Kanisawa-san was _still_ in the shower—he strode to the closed door to his bathroom, knocked lightly and walked inside, voice echoing in cheery warning against the tiles and walls littered with condensation.

"It's me, I just thought I'd drop off a towel, for when you've finished." This announcement completed, he set the bundle of terrycloth on the edge of the counter. Kurama strode out, then, closing the door behind him just loudly enough that Kanisawa-san would know he was no longer in the room.

He set to laying out the futon, next. Always polite(as he'd been raised to be), Kurama fully intended for his guest to take his bed, and he would take to the futon. True to this thought process, once the futon was settled he went about changing the sheets on his bed to fresher ones, for his guest. No sense in making the boy more uncomfortable with the situation, after all.

: : :

He paused, hearing the door close after a bit of silence from the redhead's proclamation—but then resumed his washing, allowing his thoughts to split and wander. How had he arrived in this situation, again?

_…No, not _**_that_**_ situation. How was I invited here for the night?_

There were times he was worried he wasn't acting as a proper human teenager should. Should he have accepted so easily? Kurama's mother had seemed rather adamant… but then, this _was_ Japan. Had he missed an important cultural test by accepting—but, wouldn't rejecting an offer made by an elder also risk offending them? Ugh… he massaged a temple with a pair of fingers, closing his eyes a moment. It was no use to wonder over it, now. He'd be spending the night, Kurama'd only be a few feet away from him, sleeping, vulnerable—

The reincarnate slapped a conflicted palm against the water-slickened wall, fingertips curling in frustration against the smooth tile. It certainly was a good thing, yes. He'd be able to siphon more youki out of the fox if he was closer, and thus able to regain his more demonic abilities at a faster rate due to the boost from tonight, alone. Granted, he wouldn't be able to actually use his youki, but there were other perquisites besides that. There would be time for the rest—and it was a good bit of luck that Kurama hadn't noticed when he placed the second seal on him, earlier. Now there was only the fourth to attend to, and the crow would be as dangerous as he was before his death.

The fourth seal, after all, would enable his current body to accept the strange nature of his youki with little ill effect, if all went as planned. The reason he needed Kurama for this was because the youko already did this—balanced youki and reiki within himself with no detrimental consequences. As soon as he started draining parts of Kurama's ki, the human body he currently inhabited would grow more used to youki being held within it. His soul, being one of youkai descent, naturally had the ability to transform reiki into youki—but, as of yet, he was unable to use it due to his human body's rejection of the type of youki he had. Kurama's type was softer, more easily accepted—as well as mixed with reiki, which would make the influx of youki easier on his body. It was a good halfway point—and, as he absorbed the fox's ki, he would slowly change it into a form his body could use. It would change from a reiki-youki mix to his particular youki signature, instead of the fox's. Given sufficient time, he could eventually apply the fourth seal to the fox and trigger the release of the built-up youki in his soul that would result from utilizing the second seal. His body would then—hopefully—be able to handle the release without destroying itself from the inside-out, and after that he would be closer to the demon he was, before. He would be unstoppable, with his human body's reiki to use to heal himself(something he could never do before, as his youki was of the explosive, destructive sort) and the familiar Quest Class type of energy he knew so well.

He frowned. It didn't bring him the elation he'd had, when he first began planning all this. Could that mean something? Was seeing the kitsune so often making him hesitant to change the status quo? Weakening his resolve with temptation? After all—as things stood now, he could kiss the fox whenever he cared, see him, touch him without fear of reprisal. Who's to say that this couldn't be the second chance they hadn't had the fortune to have in their first meeting, at the Tournament?

…No. _No._ That was fool's talk. Had living in the Ningenkai really made him so soft? He snorted, turning off the stream of water with the quick twist of a wrist. The brunet stepped out from behind the curtain, jerking it to the side as he did so. He grabbed the towel waiting for him by the counter, pausing only to see the fogged reflection of himself in the mirror.

It was hazed, but—there were no scars. He looked… oddly young. His hair was at least to the middle of his back, now—although it seemed longer, that it was wet, and clung to his shoulders and face until he pushed the strands impatiently out of the way, turning his back resolutely to the looking glass as he started to dry off.

Preposterous. Give him another minute or two, and he'd walk back into that room and see Kurama. All the old urges would come to him in that moment, and this foolish idea of living life as an 'ordinary human' would pass. He would want to maim, choke and terrify the redhead—he _would_, that was who he _was_, and nothing could change that. He'd lived the way he had for centuries before Toguro'd enslaved him—habits like that were hard to kill. Not that he wanted to kill them!

He fumed, inwardly, furious that his mind was playing tricks with semantics on things such as this. Certainly, he wished for Kurama's death! The disguised youkai ignored the voice in the back of his mind that spoke softly, prodding at him that it would be boring to be in Ningenkai—and in existence, in general—without the fox there to distract him. The only logical option would be to kill himself, to avoid that boredom, and affix himself to Kurama's soul as it passed on. But then, the officials of Reikai would find his soul at that point(they wouldn't allow him to escape their radar so easily, a second time) and separate them when they went through the Gate of Judgment, wouldn't they? Perhaps the best option to be with Kurama would be here, in Ningenkai, under his assumed name, and—

Suddenly annoyed beyond all rational belief, he pushed these thoughts firmly from his mind. He'd see, when he went back in there—the desire _for_ the fox would not outweigh the desire to _kill_ the fox. It was a simple matter, really. He shouldn't be wondering about all this. Despite… despite the fact seeing Kurama react warmly to his touch—without the terror he'd always seen, from former lovers since as far back as he could recall—was almost a desire in and of itself.

: : :

When he opened the door, he was greeted with the sight of the fox smoothing out the top comforter of his bed. The brunet blinked. Hadn't the comforter cover been a different one when he'd left—? He narrowed his eyes, speaking quietly towards the fox.

"Kurama… You—" A warm smile insinuated itself over the kitsune's shoulder as the redhead glanced back towards him, straightening.

"You are my guest, Kanisawa-san. I will not have you sleeping on the floor." An elegant hand motioned towards a small pile of clothes on the fox's desk. "Please, I've located some pajamas for you. If you'll excuse me for a few minutes, however…" The kitsune made to walk past his friend and into the bathroom, speaking nonchalantly. "I shall be back as soon as I've finished."

The reincarnate opened his mouth to protest this turn of events—but the unexpected feel of Kurama's lips on his cheek for a fleeting moment made the words die in his throat. Unintentionally, he felt his neck and cheeks begin to burn. He attempted to stifle it, making to turn and persuade the fox into taking his own bed—only to be met with the finalistic image of the door to the bathroom shutting with a prompt 'click'. Frowning slightly—not only at the implications of his own reaction, but the current situation—he turned to the desk, draping the borrowed towel over his yet-wet hair. He noticed there wasn't any underwear, and had to allow a soft smirk to curl over his face. How thoughtful of Kurama to take his preferences into accordance with what he'd said. It had been a bit of fun to react as a 'normal, lovestruck human teenager' would, in that situation—partially because he never would allow _himself_ to react in such a way.

Shaking his head, he reached for the loose pair of pants, pulling them on. Sliding the towel off, he donned the shirt, eying the white material and blue flannels once they sheathed his form from sight. Determined to at least have his way as Kurama was not there to protest it, he settled to a cross-legged seat on the futon, glancing around the room. It looked different when it was lit. There were bookcases, the desk and chair, the bed, the fern… The crow shook his head, then. The sound of the shower still lit in the background, he stood, restless. He had the idea it would be impolite to go wandering about the house—so, instead took to the kitsune's bookshelf, running a long finger over the spines snugly arranged flush with each other. One title in a Makai dialect caught his eye, and he pulled it out, thumbing through the paperback tome. A lack of interest in horticulture had nearly killed him, before. No harm in possibly gaining a bit of useful information while the fox was absent.

: : :

_ One year, he and his group received an invitation to the Tournament of Darkness. On a whim, he took Yomi and a few others with him, to observe the proceedings. Yomi felt the bloodlust keenly, and even in the youko's chilled soul there sparked a tiny flame of interest. After a particularly bloody fight in the ring, he grabbed Yomi's arm and dragged the goat demon into the shadows. They were not alone. Many demons became aroused by the intense macabre and massacres they witnessed, and so the youko had to shove and kick a few copulating pairs out of the way before he and Yomi managed to escape to some greenery-sprawled part of the island, leaving their group behind with the unspoken intention to meet up, later. It was then that Yomi became his lover._

_ Kurama would look back at this time as the beginning of Yomi's end. If, perhaps, Yomi had not grown so arrogant due to his high place under Kurama(as a direct result of their new relationship), he would have not begun to take up heists without consulting the fox. Perhaps he would have never been deemed a threat, perhaps Yomi then would have never gone on that doomed heist even after Kurama chastised him for the failed one, where the fox had lost so many valuable men and was forced to go in, himself, to ensure that the goat youkai did not die for his failings. Kurama had given Yomi one chance to change, and the younger demon had insulted it by not listening._

_ Kurama had no lingering regrets over sending that youkai after Yomi and his group, to kill them._

_ He had no need for followers so easily swayed by a hot-blooded leader, and he had no desire to continue to risk his reputation due to the stupid actions of said hot-blooded leader. The youko sensed a danger—Yomi was not likable, but he was able to win people over to his way of thinking, despite all the risks involved with his plan._

_ Kurama would not risk that danger growing into a larger threat that could, potentially, seep into the rest of his group's way of thinking. _

_ It was best to cut off the diseased limb before its malady could spread further._

: : :

~Present Time~

Kurama emerged a little while later, entering his room to the sight of his… boyfriend, as it was, seated on the futon. His brow knit, and he opened his mouth to comment—until noting the set look of concentration on the other teen's face, and the book in his hands. Kanisawa looked as though he were reading—that brought a smile, and the kitsune turned to close the bathroom door, announcing his presence as it shut.

"Does that interest you?" As he turned back, towel firmly wrapped around his waist, cinnamon optics blinked up towards him. Only then could the redhead discern that the language of the book sprawled open in Kanisawa's hands was not Japanese, at all. His eyes widened. Surely, the boy couldn't _understand_ the language, could he? Although it had looked as though he was reading it— No, that was preposterous. Smiling slightly to cover his unease, the fox shifted to his dresser, thinking as he opened it and rummaged around inside for something to wear.

"This is quite complex." The cultured, almost bored voice reached the air, and he held his breath, pushing a stray lock of hair behind an ear, brushing a seed. If Kanisawa could understand a demon language, he must be a demon—perhaps masquerading and seeking the perfect chance to catch him off-guard? Although that wouldn't make sense(as Kurama then should have then sensed some form of youki emanating from him, were that the case), emerald eyes still hardened—directed at the wall as they were—with the brunet at his back.

_ If Kanisawa is—_

"I wonder how they came up with such squiggles to use, for writing." Surprised, the redhead's empty hand dropped to rest on the edge of the open drawer in front of him, as he glanced back at the youth peering at the pages before him, the brunet's fingertip running down the lines. "They don't look like Chinese characters, or Russian Cyrillic, or even Arabic…" The boy sighed, shaking his head before aiming a slight smile up towards Kurama, a small blush coloring his cheeks as he then quickly looked away.

"I didn't mean to pry… I just saw a language I didn't know, and the book seemed interesting. The pictures helped, too—although I've never seen plants like this, either…" The kitsune immediately felt his hackles drop, smiling more naturally and nodding a bit as he turned back to locating a pair of pajamas for himself. _No, I'm just being paranoid…_

"It's one of the Makaian languages. A dialect of Demon World." He supplied the definition without prompting, taking out the sought-for clothes. Gathering them up, the fox strode off for the bathroom once again, tipping a warm 'be right back' smile towards his guest before disappearing behind the door.

The crow let out a deep breath, closing his eyes. That had been close. He'd gotten too absorbed in reading to notice when the water had turned off. Shaking his head at his lack of attention, the brunet stood, quietly re-shelving the book to the spot between the English titles _Flatland: A Romance of Many Dimensions _and _Dune_, from whence it had come.

: : :

Kuwabara had missed the evening train to Sendai by about fifteen minutes. The next one wasn't for a few hours, and so he had settled in to wait, amusing himself with the arcade across the street. Scarcely a half-hour before the next train(around midnight) was due in, he wandered back over to the station to get a ticket, heard a high-pitched, frantic-sounding squeal and glanced up.

Numerous people were point up at the ceiling of the train station, and Kuwabara felt his mouth drop open in surprise, barely having the time to catch the flying ball of blue spirit _creature_ which barrelled into his arms. He turned red as everyone stared at him, and hastily left, casting Puu a sour look when they were at last standing in some dark alleyway outside the station.

"Puusuke! I have to go save Yukina, I don't have time for this! Now go home to Keiko, and—" The small penguin nipped at his hand and he cursed, tossing it away and up into the air. Glaring, it fluttered at eye-level with him, chirping insistently while still looking very angry. He frowned, swatting at the thing gently, but it just grabbed onto his hand with its tiny paws and pulled. Not expecting that, he stumbled forward a few steps with a squawk.

"Hey!" More persistent chirps greeted this, and he sighed, rubbing a hand against the back of his head and glancing forlornly at the train station behind him. It broke his heart not to rush off to save Yukina, but Puusuke was just like Yuusuke—selfish, spoiled, and wouldn't leave him alone until he caved. Besides, he wouldn't be this worked up over nothing. As he cast a serious glance towards the blue creature Puusuke stopped for a moment, eying him as he hovered.

"All right, Puusuke. I guess it's important, huh?" Kuwabara nodded solemnly to the spirit animal's self-righteous squawk, and gestured for the fluffy bird-like thing to start going, beginning to smile a little.

"Then lead the way, little buddy."

: : :

When Kurama returned a minute or so later, Kanisawa was half-perched on the edge of the bed, apparently nervous and fiddling with something in his hands. Tipping his head to the side, the fox rearranged the towel around his shoulders, striding softly over.

"Kanisa—?" He was tugged down, then, by a grip at his elbow, plopping soundly before the human seated atop the mattress. The redhead made to turn, but the feel of something non-organic tentatively catching on his hair gave him pause. Instead, he only attempted the slightest glance behind him, to confirm—catching a faint frown on the other's face. Gentle fingers against the damp, slightly-frazzled crimson locks forced him to face front, then, once more.

"Stop moving, Kurama…" That tone felt shy and embarrassed, and as long fingers smoothed down the silky tresses he had to fight a smile, aiming his gaze down to his hands in his lap and sitting obediently still.

"Ah… yes. Thank you." The fox stubbornly refused to acknowledge the rather out-of-place bit of red he could feel sneaking over his cheeks, instead merely enjoying the preening he was being subjected to. Time went on, and as the brushstrokes met less resistance it began to feel more like petting. His eyelids drooped, unconsciously relaxing enough that he was beginning to lean back towards the pampering motions. Kanisawa did not say anything, and he was just absently thinking he should turn off the light and prepare for bed, when a soft voice broke the silence around them.

"You said the hospital brought back bad memories." He tensed, at that, and the brush in his hair paused, minutely. It continued after another moment, undisturbed.

"…Yes." He recalled when he'd said that, yes—ah, he'd not thought Kanisawa would remember to ask on that!

"What happened?" Kurama sought around in his mind for a cheap lie, anything to avoid revealing more of Reikai than he already had— But then, there were warm fingers against his scalp, slowly massaging on one side as the brush worked fluidly through the now-untangled locks on the other. He sighed comfortably, closing his eyes in contemplation. Well, being honest with Yuusuke had paid off, hadn't it? His voice was just as soft as the brunet's had been, when he spoke.

"About a year ago, my mother was very sick." The hands in his hair stopped. Was that a tremble he could feel? He made to turn, worried—and was greeted with a surprised blink, his movement seeming to jar Kanisawa back to the present, and the boy glanced away. Kurama'd not seen this, before. Concerned, he shifted so as to better face the teen behind him, raising a hand to tenderly, lightly, draw his fingertips over the youth's cheek. The brunet winced, bringing up a hand as though to brush the redhead's away—but, traitorous digits that they were, they instead curled around it. The fox attempted a small, soft smile.

"Kanisawa-san? She's—all right, now. 'kaasan is in no danger." Kurama watched the boy's reaction to his careful words, eyes seeking out any information he could glean from the situation. The conclusion he was coming to, though… The redhead's voice became gentler, his free hand seeking out the other's on the bed, which was still half-heartedly grasping the brush handle pinned beneath it.

"Is your… mother—?"

"She passed away long ago." There was something besides sorrow in that tone—regret, perhaps? It wouldn't be uncommon. Mouth curving upward once more, this time in comfort, the kitsune leaned to kiss the boy on the cheek, eyes closing as he imagined the pain the other must have gone through. This boy was a human, after all—and humans got so attached to their parental figures, he thought in a wry moment of self-irony. They stayed like that for a little while, Kurama not offering pity where none was needed and Kanisawa simply remaining quiet.

After a moment or two, though, it really was getting a bit too serious for his liking. Sliding smoothly closer, he was treated to the sight of brown eyes shooting open, locking on him. The fox grinned, leaning closer to capture the other's lips in a warm kiss as his hands—_began their attack_! Those cinnamon optics practically bulged in surprise, an involuntary laugh spilling past the tiers as Kurama released him from the kiss and settled atop, mercilessly tickling.

"K—Ku—Kura—!" Kanisawa's face below him was steadily growing redder with the lack of air as he 'tormented' the poor boy, but he just beamed down at him, satisfied inwardly to see that look of sorrow was successfully banished. Certainly, this human youth could never understand the true, dark depths of pain—but that still didn't mean he wanted to see the other wrought with even the shallower sort.

"Hmmm~?" It was an 'innocent' sound, as he shifted to keep his wriggling victim pinned beneath, Kanisawa's legs kicking out, trying to buck him off and—ah. Was that a bit of fury, in those eyes? His grin settled into a more mischievous incarnation of itself, as he leaned closer. He was still safely out of reach of the other's writhing, though.

"K—Kurama! L-Let me… !" He laughed at the attempt, going down once more to snatch the other's lips in another kiss, hands pausing in the same moment to avoid the other hurting him in his flailing. The chest beneath him was moving rapidly to regain air—helped not at all by the fact he was kissing the poor teen. What he didn't expect was arms to wrap around him—one around his neck, the other his waist—and draw him down. A small surprised sound escaped him, but it gave enough of an opening that the boy beneath him took full advantage, sliding past the opened tiers as his knee angled itself deftly between the fox's legs.

Kurama felt another blush fighting to escape, slivering his eyes open beneath their dark lashes to cast a covert glance towards the one beneath him. The other's face was a bit out-of-focus, with them this close, but this fact was tossed aside in favor of arching his back as that hand around his waist traveled south. It took his ass, forcing his hips more into the rubbing knee. They twitched, faintly, and he had to pant as he drew away from the kiss, pressing himself up on both hands—it didn't matter, Kanisawa was still attached to him due to the positioning of his arms. Teeth ran up his chin and he shuddered, head tipping back but more primal instincts jarred with the threat to his jugular. He brushed it aside, instead trying to reason _when_, exactly, had this turned into this? Mother would…

His eyes went wide. No—no, he couldn't, not here—it was too soon, anyway, what was he thinking? Cursing mentally, he tried to extricate himself from the amorous teen beneath him. His movements did not go unnoticed.

"K—Kurama?" It was husked, with too much desire and perhaps a touch of frustration or even anger, and he felt a shiver of fear before pushing it away. There was no reason to fear Kanisawa. Nothing. Just as he was determining a proper excuse, he felt the knee withdraw, and the naughty hand raise itself up onto his waist, once more. He was pulled down, unresisting, opening his eyes in surprise as he caught the serious darker ones watching him. A smile tugged at the corner of the older boy's lips, even as his eyes glittered against the shadow Kurama's form cast over them.

"We don't… have to go any further—if you don't want to." The boy beneath him was still catching his breath, and the fox lowered his lids, just barely observing the individual who now undoubtedly held a title of 'boyfriend'.

"Mmm…" A true flickering of regret covered his tone, and he raised his eyes a moment later, smiling as he was more accustomed to. The slender redhead slowly began to push himself off of the other—pausing, though, to press a kiss to his companion's nose with a warm murmur. "I don't think 'kaasan would appreciate us continuing… She's just in the other room, after all." He couldn't betray her trust—he already lied to her about his youko nature. To grant more deception for such a simple cause would give her reason to lose faith in him and he did _not_ need a distrustful parent on his heels. As the kitsune continued to raise himself off of his guest—he suddenly smirked down at the brunet. A lofted brow inquired as to this.

"What's so funny?" The fox tipped his head to the side, scarlet tresses shifting with the motion, smirk still firmly in place and jade eyes twinkling with mirth.

"Mmm~ It seems I've gotten you to take the bed, after all, my dear guest."

A vengeful palm thrust into his face—shoving him off—muffled Kurama's ensuing chuckles.

: : :

_ Unfortunately, at the next Urameshi Team match, Otouto insisted on going to observe 'as a team'. Therefore, the crow demon was stuck standing at the back of the arena—in his place at the brothers' left, Bui at their right, and Ani perched (like the monkey he was) atop Otouto's right shoulder. He considered it a small blessing that at least Ani was not perched on his side—which was a tad surprising, as the onyx-haired demon was a mite better of a conversationalist than Bui._

_ Either way, the Quest Class youkai did not allow himself to react in any visible way to his fox's match against the short fisherman. No, he did not set eyes upon the youko's true form and find himself both hushed and elated with the challenge that form might present. For only an instant, he had envisioned he and the silver youko locked in a deadly battle—those platinum strands stained a ruined red as the mighty fox lay dying on the Tournament floor, pale skin dotted with spots of darkest color in sharp contrast to his gauzy white robes, chunks of flesh burned away by his dear creature bombs…_

_ And then—all too soon for him to really get more than the vaguest glimpse—the silver youko was gone, replaced by the redhead he knew so well. The momentary infusion of the silver youko's extravagant ki dissipated into the stands, and he took a slow breath in, feeling the barest minimum of that power—diluted, of course—reach into his body through the air. Intoxicating…_

_ Further clues as to the meaning of Otouto's cryptic comment at the beginning of this Tournament came to light as he clarified Genkai's exception later on in the fights, however. The crow quietly filed this information away, careful to give no sign of his thoughts. Ani was now the only one standing between them, and the ebony-haired youkai dared not venture a glance towards Bui lest Ani put it into Otouto's head that they were plotting together to beat them (they had tried that only once, decades ago, near the beginning of their enslavement—and after that complete defeat, they had both silently decided to do the best they could, on their own). He would not put it past Ani's vindictive side—which became rather obvious when the older brother sneered under his breath as Otouto explained to the audience the peculiar cell-age-regression quirk of Genkai's signature technique—to come up with such a thing._

_ "She is only an old, worn-out tool to get you what you want, Brother. Stop encouraging her…"_

: : :

~Present Time~

Her coat around her shoulders(after a quick change out of her pajamas), Keiko slid into her mother's car and they sped away towards the hospital. Her father remained at home, up but cooking a meal for Kuwabara-san(who had likely spent quite a few hours waiting for Shizuru to wake up) and would follow after them, later. Keiko nervously clutched at her jeans, glancing worriedly out the window.

_If only I had a communicator! Then I could tell Kuwabara—_

Inwardly frustrated, she closed her eyes, tightly, willing the tears away. Where was he? Surely he would want to know that his sister was—

The car slowed down for a stoplight, but then her mother gasped.

"Keiko! I-Is that Kuwabara-kun?" Brown eyes jetted wide open, and Keiko glanced wildly around before her eyes settled on the tall, blue uniform-clad boy running after—something? He was already almost out of sight, and she hurriedly responded, rolling down her window.

"A-Ah, yes! Hurry! Kuwabara!" She called out of the window as they approached, eyes locked to him as he turned the corner down a dark alleyway and he didn't hear her but something in the air before him fluttered and Keiko's eyes widened. "Mom! Stop the car!" The teen fiddled with her seat belt and as soon as the car had pulled over, Keiko burst out the door, running towards his blurry figure, her shoes tapping smartly against the pavement.

"Kuwabara!" A ball of blue fluff propelled itself into her arms and she clasped it to her chest, eyes wide in surprise as the living projectile forced her to stop.

"Puuuu!" Kuwabara turned at the sound of the creature behind him, blinking, stunned, at what he saw.

"W-Wh—_Keiko_?" He rushed over to her, mouth opening to continue to comment but she cut him off, eyes squeezing shut as she hugged Puu securely to her chest.

"Shizuru's in the hospital! You've got to come with us, my mom has the car waiting—" Kuwabara blinked at her for another moment before he lunged forward, grabbing her arms, face abruptly worried.

"W-What? What for? Is she all right? Does Dad know? Is she—" Attempting an encouraging smile, Keiko looked up at him with a nod.

"Y-Yes, well, she's asleep now—your dad's over there and he's been trying to find you, but—" A hand patting her shoulder was firm, as the taller teen nodded at her.

"All right, Keiko. All right. Ane's gonna be okay, she's a tough old bird." He cocked a smile at her that looked more worried than confident, but she took what she could and nodded back, again, starting to back up and turn to make her way back to her mother's idling car.

"Of course she is. Let's get you there, though, right?" There, Kuwabara's lips twitched, again, before leveling out into a firm line.

"Right."

: : :

~A Few Hours Later(than Keiko and Kuwabara's Present Time)~

Too soon for his mostly-human body's liking, Kurama was awakened by a tentative ki-pull upon the peony atop his roof. It was soft, but instantaneous—there was only one person who even knew the flower was there(and only one reason it _was_ there). Cautiously moving to sit up from his futon on the floor, he cast a glance through the dark towards his guest—Kanisawa-san, still sound asleep on his bed. He smiled a little in fondness at that sight—before that spiritual tug on the small flower made itself known, again, and Kurama glanced up towards the ceiling, brow furrowing.

_Botan._

As quietly as he could, Kurama padded out of his room—grabbing his emergency bag along the way, just in case—being sure to shut the door in silence. He made his way down the stairs, and opened the front door, sliding out and locking it behind him. The redhead strode to the sidewalk and glanced up. A pink kimono sleeve waved at him from the roof, and the ferry girl quickly used her oar to glide down to him. Her face was drawn and worried, and Kurama blinked, about to comment—Botan nearly floated into his face, though, normally-cheery voice an urgent hiss.

"Kurama-kun! Yuusuke and Hiei are in trouble! They're facing off with—" The fox felt something in him recoil at the mention of Hiei, and his eyes darkened as he covered his emotions, glancing away from her distraught gaze as Botan's feet landed neatly on the ground, at last.

"They are strong, Botan. I'm sure together they can—" She cut him off, grabbing his arm as she leaned in.

"No, you don't understand!" This close, again—he noticed her face was very pale, her windswept hair more wild than usual. "Hiei's not in full control of himself, Yukina-chan's been kidnapped and Yuusuke can only hold him back so long before he kills—" Gasping, Botan covered her mouth, fuschia eyes going wide as Kurama's own narrowed at this information, mind working fast as his tone sombered.

"Yukina's been taken hostage?" The ferry girl nodded furiously, uncovering her mouth and clasping onto his arm with both hands, now, her oar tucked under her arm(the paddle end almost touching the ground).

"Yes, and Hiei's not himself! Not to mention they're up against a monster made entirely of water—which is already Hiei's weakness—but due to anger he's not thinking straight, so—" Kurama felt the familiar battle instinct settling it—worry over his friends masking any lingering hurt due to the youkai's actions months prior. _Why did Hiei not call for my help_, he had to ask himself in one fleeting, bitter moment—but Kurama understood an instant later. Of course Hiei would not call for help through the Jagan—they had not spoken through that mental channel in over half a year. Pride. Kurama cut off Botan's desperate ramblings with a sharp nod.

"Take me to them." At her answering shift, he slid behind her onto her oar, with little concern for the fact he was wearing not more than a thin pajama top and bottoms(thankfully, he'd had the foresight to slip on his sneakers in the genkan). The spare clothes in the emergency bag slung over his chest could replace those, anyway, but first they needed to _leave_. He was needed. Whether Hiei would admit it or not, the situation was dire enough that Koenma had sent Botan to fetch him. Kurama was needed, and despite the fact he had not talked to Yuusuke in quite a while, either—they were still his friends. Their blood had been spilled, together. They had almost died, together. They had survived the Tournament, together—and it would take far more than a botched relationship with one member of their team to break that bond.

As they launched into the night, his arms necessarily wrapped around Botan's waist to keep him from falling off, the redhead cast a glance back at his bedroom window as it faded out of sight—and felt a stab of guilt for leaving Kanisawa behind him, unknowing. It was an emergency, though, as well as a Reikai affair. When Kurama returned, he would be able to explain as best he could. As for other matters—

"Where are we going?" He tried to shout this over the loud noise of the air rushing past them, when they were far enough away from his home that the sound didn't risk carrying. Botan turned her head, slightly, yelling back without glancing behind her.

"Hokkaido! Now, hold on! I'm going to phase to get us there, faster!" He nodded against the blue ponytail whipping in his face, shutting his eyes tight against it and the wind. Deep down, Kurama didn't really expect to be back before morning—before his mother(or Kanisawa-san) noticed he was gone.

_But I can hope…_

~*~To Be Continued~*~


	17. Encounter

Disclaimer: I don't own Yuu Yuu Hakusho, or any of its characters. Those belong to Yoshihiro Togashi-sama, who made a lot more out of them than I ever could have. ^^;; I just do fanfiction for fun, and earn no monetary rewards for writing it. Reviews are, of course, worth as much as silver.

Title: Second Try  
Chapter Seventeen: Encounter  
Word Count: 7,085  
[Total Word Count: 117,568]  
[Total AFF Hit Count: 1778]  
Anime: Yuu Yuu Hakusho  
Pairing: HieixKurama, KanisawaxKurama  
Warning: Angst, violence/gore, language, implied BL  
Author: Kita Kitsune  
Date: Sunday, Mary 15, 2011  
Miscellaneous Notes: Spot the tiny Bender reference and win a cookie~! :D (Sorry this is a little short, but the muses gave me permission to end the chapter after it'd passed 7,000 words, so… )

Uwah, everything in this chapter was newly-written over this past week~! I guess this means I'm officially back to writing for YYH, then? :3 Ahaha… although the lack of reviews on AFF is a bit discouraging, I guess I should be thankful the hit count's at 1509 after a year-long hiatus? x/x~ Saa.

[ Also, the scenes from Karasu's past POV (Dark Tournament, etc.) are from the Japanese version. I haven't seen that version with the subtitles since forever, so please excuse if my translation seems a little 'unofficial' compared to the English dub or the 'official' English subtitles for the Japanese dub. ]

Not much else to say, but I hope you guys enjoy this update~! The fight scene with Seaman/Mitarai was what was giving me such endless troubles for updating, but with it out of the way I hope things will flow better! ( x.o;;~ )

Also: Apologies for any typos (I will catch them eventually!)—I just really, really wanted to post~ :3

More Notes(Friday, March 16, 2012): Hi, everyone~! Sorry this took so long to post. x.x No worries, because I'm still thinking about this fic, and still plotting! Next chapter's done, at least! Hope you enjoy! :D

: : : : : : :

The two demons paused in their search, one's bright blue eyes flickering with confusion while the other's pupiless ones watched him steadily.

"Jin?" A hand held aloft made him stop, and so Touya patiently waited for his companion to judge whatever he was sensing. The redheaded shinobi then turned to him, expression dark.

"We're going the wrong way. The wind says it felt her over this way, not—"

"—where Yuusuke and Hiei are fighting." He finished for him, and Jin nodded. Touya fought a frown.

_Then where else would she… Ah. _He narrowed his eyes. Jin grinned tightly back at him.

"Yep. They're bein' fooled. 'though they prolly know that already, since they're fightin'… Soun's like trouble." Touya resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the now-toothy grin his partner was gracing him with.

"So the question is—"

"Yuki-chan!" Jin was adamant, waving his arms about to show just how much, eyes wide. "Yuusuke and Hiei can handle th'mselves, and sh' needs to be safe, first!" Touya sighed, resting a pair of fingers against his temple. Well, they _were_ shinobi, after all. Stealth was their speciality. And Jin's wind was never wrong—they would go it alone, then, and meet up with Yuusuke and Hiei once they had her.

: : :

Botan bit her lip, trying to resist the urge to glance back at Kurama riding on her oar, behind her. Koenma-sama had been very particular about his orders, this time. As soon as the report had come in about what Yuusuke and Hiei were facing, she'd been sent to retrieve Kurama—Kuwabara was likely too wrapped up with his sister's issues in the hospital. Besides, he wasn't actually an _official_ member of the Reikai Tantei, so—

_But Kurama-kun still deserves to know that Kanisawa Takashi is Karasu!_

_ …Might be Karasu._

—_Is very likely to be Karasu!_

_ Oh, phooey!_

It was times like these she hated being so low on the hierarchy of Spirit World. If she so much as _breathed_ a word about Kanisawa's suspected identity, she would be imprisoned for five hundred years, for disobeying a direct order! Koenma-sama wouldn't even have a choice about it, it was simply regulation. Still gnawing on the inside of her bottom lip, she jerked a little when a soft voice floated into her ear from close behind.

"Botan? Is something the matter?" Forcing a laugh, the ferry girl closed her eyes tightly, fervently wishing (but knowing it was pointless) that the strange boy she had felt sleeping in Kurama's room _was anyone but _a certain crow demon.

"Ahahaha, no, I'm fine! It's just hard to talk over all this wind, you know?"

: : :

Hiei was not amused. In fact, Yuusuke would go so far as to say that he was the very _opposite_ of amused. (Not that it would take a brain surgeon to tell, though.) They'd thrown themselves into battle with the water… monstrosity… _ thing_, the instant it lumbered up from behind Seaman.

Hiei was flitting here and there, trying to avoid the watery fists that popped out of the ocean, aiming to drag him under or just deliver a hard punch. The youkai's dodges weren't sloppy, to say—but it almost seemed as though those red eyes were glowing. Yuusuke couldn't blame him, really. Hell, if Keiko had been kidnapped again, he would've been royally pissed off, himself. As Hiei grabbed the behemoth's attention by activating his flaming ki and lunging forward with a Jao Ensatsu Rengoku Sho, Yuusuke tried a stunning Rei-gun at Seaman, who was grinning wildly and watching the dark flames dancing around Hiei's form. The blast hit the arm of a fist which had thrust up from the water, scooping the blond into its palm. For a moment Yuusuke thought it would sever the arm—to no avail, apparently. The ball of ki glowed insistently for a moment, before slowly dissipating into the hand itself. Brown eyes went wide, and—with a crooked grin—Seaman's attention shifted to him.

"Oi, Urameshi-kun, that wasn't very—!" Water hissed, interrupting him as Hiei's blazing fists made contact with the behemoth, causing an eruption of steam which swathed the area in a salty fog that forcibly reminded Yuusuke of Bakken. There was a cry (not in Hiei's voice?), and then a low curse, and soon Yuusuke was hurtling backwards due to a projectile thrown into his midsection. Arms closing around it instinctually, the object (which he quickly recognized as a tossed and very angry fire demon) and he skidded back onto the sand. As the steam cleared—due to the two elements being put out of contact—Yuusuke could just make out the deep gash running over the front of Seaman's hoodie. The boy's blue eyes were huge, and he looked startled and pale—much too young to be caught in a battle like this. Blinking as a bit of flesh peeked out from behind the wide tear in the thick yellow fabric, the detective's arms tightened around his friend as reality seeped back into his consciousness when Hiei tried to slip away. Worried brown eyes slid down to stare at the back of his friend's head.

"Hey! You aren't actually trying to _kill_ him, are you?" Elbowing the teen in a particularly tender spot so as to loosen his grip, Hiei swiftly returned to his feet, flicking a bit of blood off the tip of his katana and not bothering to glance back at his companion.

"Hn." Yuusuke's brows furrowed downwards at the lack of a real response, and he surged to his feet, grabbing the youkai's shoulder before he could speed off into battle, again.

"W-Wait, _what?_" A hard, dark pair of garnet eyes locked on him in irritation. "You can't kill him, Hiei! Remember what Koenma said if you—!"

"That bureaucratic _fool_ does not hold any control over what I do." It was practically spat at him, and the fire youkai's ki began to undulate around him, again, raising the temperature and infusing his eyes with a reddish light, once more. Yuusuke's own gaze narrowed at him, and he squeezed the demon's shoulder harder.

"Well he does over _me_, and I don't want to be _ordered _to have to bring you in because you were being a dumbass and decided to return to your 'kill all humans' outlook on life!" Those red eyes slivered at him in annoyance, Hiei's dark ki bristling against the electric blue thrum of Yuusuke's.

"You're mistaken. I only wish to kill _him._" Here Hiei turned back to the ocean and their opponents, grinding his jaw together as he flickered through the faces in Seaman's memory—as easily as turning pages in a book. "And anyone who helped him." That bloodcurdling scream—_Yukina's_—echoing through the blond boy's memories was all the impetus he needed, and he ducked out from under Yuusuke's hold, sprinting forward with his mouth narrowed to a thin, angry line, sword held low to the ground.

"Hiei! Stop!" Something slammed into him from in front and above, and he tossed his katana to the side (the quarters were too close for it to be of any use!) to push at the object as they fell back on the sand, a hard weight pinning him there and he tried to maneuver so he could grab the creature's neck to fling it off, or just be in a good enough position to—

_Roses._

Hiei's eyes jetted wide open, unblinking as they landed on a far-too-familiar face framed by crazily windswept and mussed locks of thick scarlet hair—then detoured towards a cheek. Green eyes blinked back at his averted gaze, accompanied by a slight smile as a soft chuckle lifted to the air, Kurama moving to push himself off with a quiet mutter to himself—which only Hiei was close enough to hear.

"The same as always_."_

"Kurama!" Those green eyes then wandered from him, warming as they landed on Yuusuke, who lunged forward to hook one arm around his neck in a half-embrace, now that he was standing. Only a moment later both tantei were on the ground again, though, Kurama frowning through narrowed, analyzing eyes as the watery fist swept out over the beach.

"Ah, watch out!" The belated warning from Botan wasn't really all that helpful.

"So, yeah! Y'see, that's what we're up against, and I'm guessin' since Botan's here Koenma decided—"

"—that I should assist you? Quite so…" The youko murmured something to himself, palming the sand in contemplation of the non-freshwater plants he had in his arsenal. It would have been _so_ helpful for Botan to mention this was a creature of seawater, as there were a few seeds in a fake book on his bookshelf which thrived on such water. (The Makai mangrove trees not the least of them, but their seeds were too big and unwieldy to fit against his neck, he did not carry them often.) As it were, though…

_Of halophytes, I only have Ningenkai hijiki and amamo with me, and they—wait! _

He tried to gather a moment to concentrate, begin to summon his energy—but all that greeted his efforts was about two-thirds of his maximum youki output and… exhaustion? It was strange—but understandable, given the hours he had kept vigil outside Shizuru's room, as well as the limited amount of sleep he'd ended up getting.

_Well, if I can multiply enough of them they should be able to—_

A smear of black movement at the corner of his vision caught his attention, and out of habit more than thought Kurama lunged to catch the small youkai as he was flung back at them once more, breaking his fall against the sand. Chuckling breathlessly, the fox tightened his hold on his friend as he felt Hiei tense, to lunge forward again. He leaned to mutter good-naturedly in his ear.

"You should stop attacking him like that, it's doing no good—" Angry and frustrated, the shorter demon hissed back, not taking his eyes off his opponent as Yuusuke fired a Shotgun barage at the cackling blond human.

"Let go! I'm going to—" As Yuusuke's attack was blocked by another thick, watery arm (the bullets seeming to just disappear into it…), Kurama's calm tone cut Hiei's growling one off.

"Kill him, for Yukina? Do you really think she would want that?" Hiei froze for a split second, then roughly pushed himself out of the kitsune's arms, standing and clutching at the katana in his bandaged hand. He didn't answer verbally, but his response was obvious enough through a quick irritated stab of telepathy.

"_If I wanted your advice, I'd ask for it."_

Sighing, Kurama slowly stood, warily watching as Yuusuke tried unsuccessfully to find a gap in the water beast's defense. Its motions were actually predictable—if attacked directly it faced the attack with one of its own, if the blond boy in the hoodie was attacked it moved to defend him, and if its attackers showed pause it turned aggressive. Green eyes narrowing after this observation, they flicked to the back of Hiei's head as the fire demon slowly began to advance. Kurama moved to fall in step behind him, a hand sliding up under his hair to find the pod which held his halophyte seeds. His youki may be oddly weak, at the moment, but a little should be enough. He kept his voice low, not wishing to draw the blond's attention from Yuusuke.

"It's defending him? Does he control it?"

"Hn." Close enough to a yes. If they knocked the human boy unconscious, would his beast disappear? Kurama's eyes settled on ther proud set of Hiei's shoulders—bare, as his cloak had presumably been tossed away towards the forest sometime near the beginning of the fight.

"If you kill him, how can he tells us where she is?" It was a simple statement, answered by a quiet snort and a patronizing sneer.

"You think that human's mind would be impervious to my Jagan?" With a considering hum, the fox's fingers brushed the small sprouts of amamo flowing into his hand as a seed germinated. When a few small spores also responded to his ki swell, reaching out for him, Kurama smiled to himself.

"Perhaps not, but can you gather the information you need while his water beast is yet—"

They leapt away from one another as a watery fist punched down between them onto the sand, and Hiei yelled his response over the ensuing din.

"You'd better have a plan for this!" A small, annoyed nudge from the back of his mind at Hiei's presumptious statement flashed across the fox's consciousness for a moment before he managed to stifle it back, chastising himself. Now was _not_ the time to think of all that.

: : :

_The Gorenju Team. Ani took great pleasure in informing them that Otouto's 'errands' were more pressing than him fighting in this battle. (It was not unlike that loudmouth of the Urameshi team's statement to the Uraotogi team, when they entered the ring with only three of their members.) As ordered, Karasu took the first fight—one against some low-class idiot with a bald head, green skin and an unattractive overbite. Both his fighting style and appearance left much to be desired. Honestly. Why—of all the weak ones in this tournament—did he have to face one whose attacks **actually** stank? Surely Ani had known of this, and so arranged to have him fight the very ugliest of them all. The girl with the pink ponytail would have made a far better opponent (at least she was more pleasant on the eyes)._

_Stirred from his thoughts by the green demon across the ring from him shouting "Die!", the crow youkai sedately stepped to the side to allow the whirling ball of stinky energy to glide harmlessly past him and into the stands, its acid disintigrating all in its path. As the youkai began summing up his energy again—with more futile bravado—the taller demon chuckled humorlessly to himself as he began to calmly advance. Best get this over with, at least. He allowed his distaste to show at a particularly stupid comment by the moronic demon, forehead drawn together in irritation as he muttered "Are you an idiot?" under his breath. He leapt into the air, and a vibrant red wisp of youki caught the edge of his senses. He didn't bother to look for it, physically, but smiled slightly from behind his mask as he recognized the familiar pulse of ki. _

_Kurama was watching this fight. How could he have failed to notice~?_

_His mood suddenly much better, Karasu put more flair into his movements. He couldn't give too much away, lest Kurama figure out his ability before their fight had even started—ah, yes, he'd forgotten. As beautiful as the youko was, he was still moderately weak. Karasu tended to forget how far above other demons he now was, since training to defeat Otouto. It was too likely that Kurama couldn't see his ki—well, that was a shame, even as it would make playing with him that much easier. It always helped to have the advantage._

_Gliding down towards the gawping green-skinned demon with ease, the crow youkai elegantly extended his right hand and caressed the top of the other demon's right shoulder. He didn't have to touch him, of course, and the timed bomb he'd released into the muscles there was an invisible hum of youki as he floated gracefully away to an impressive—if intentionally understated—landing. Unhurriedly, he straightened, not bothering to glance behind him at his opponent, and all the while counting down the seconds in his head. Just after the blast he was moving again, and easily fell upon the youkai as he turned, left hand clutching his right shoulder—which was all that remained of the limb. Soon after that, his left arm was blown off, as well, and Karasu landed neatly once more, his back to his victim. It took longer to do it this way, but since Kurama was watching he'd give him a show. Pecking away at his opponent, taking little by little until there was nothing left… _

_To that line of thought, he turned, feeling a tad playful. Karasu raised his right hand, enjoying the look of fear blossoming out on the weaker demon's face and allowing his eyes to glint in mean amusement._

"_Well then, where should the next one be? Your feet, your abdomen, or how about your head—?"_

"_S-Stop!" The youkai then had the cowardice to turn and run. "H-Help me!"_

_He spared only a moment to scoff at the other demon's cowardice—"How unsightly!"—before simply leaping high into the air and gliding down to deliver the final three bombs which would tear the youkai apart from the inside. He landed, kneeling, and stood slowly, straightening completely just as they detonated. Sliding his hands into their dark pockets and generally ignoring the cheers of the demonic crowd as he strode away from the smoldering remains of his opponent, he felt a spark of delight upon feeling Kurama's eyes on his back. Days of observing the youko whenever possible had allowed him a certain sensitivity when he was involved, after all. _

_He wondered what expression that beautiful face was making, at the moment._

_Bui's fight was predictably quick, as well. He didn't even need the axe, it was mostly just used to intimidate weaker opponents. It was actually ironic that he was matched up against a muscular blockhead who boasted about the size of his own sword. Karasu would have almost laughed at the look of utter bemusement and then calculating relief at an assurance of victory on the stupid cyclops' face—were it not for the fact the demon was dead in less than two minutes._

_Ani's fight was cruel as usual. Must Ani always feel the need to bring up the fact that Bui and Karasu were both once as weak as that proud fighter in the ring? (The young demon was the only one of his remaining teammates to survive both Ani's initial attack as well as the dastardly mind-game Ani'd set on them, afterwards.) At least this time Ani didn't mention they'd been 'in service' for just about forty years, this time._

_Karasu could never forget the day he and Bui were forcibly inducted into the Toguro Brothers' gang._

_Thrown to the ground to land on his stomach, gracelessly, Karasu forced himself up from the polished wood of the hallway outside the room where his target slept. Only, the target hadn't been there. No sooner had he set foot in the room—silent as death—than he was flung to the opposite wall by elongated, spindly fingers and Bui came rushing to his aid from his lookout post down the hall._

_The battle hadn't lasted long._

_Cupping his right palm over the open wound in his side, blood dripped down and pooled against the palm of the arm propping him up in a sitting position. Bui was facedown, nearly unconscious and unable to speak—possibly due to the blow to his head?—beside him. Otouto stood in the doorway, the moonlight leaking in the windows framing his bulky shoulders (and the monkey-like appendage of Ani which perched on one) in the doorway. Karasu would not know later where he found the strength to speak, over the humiliation of being defeated so completely, for the first time in his life. It made no difference—he did not want to live past this._

"_Quickly—kill us."_

"_No. Those who have lost have no right to demand anything. Whether you live or die is decided by me, the victor."_

: : :

He'd realized Kurama was gone in a moment. Ever since he could remember, the crow youkai had been a light sleeper. He felt eyes on him at some point in the night, but remained absolutely still even as Kurama shuffled about, closing the door near-silently behind him as he left. Sliding slowly out of bed to follow him after he heard the front door shut, he peered out one of the windows carefully and was treated to the sight of a panicky reaper with blue hair clinging onto _his_ fox. Violet eyes narrowing, he watched as Kurama's face grew somber, and within moments he was sliding onto the ferry girl's oar, taking off into the night. The silent pulse of Kurama's ki—slow and languid when he had been so near—began to speed up before then rapidly rocketing up its pace, presumably as the ferry girl phased off to wherever they needed to go. It was a pull in a northerly direction, and the crazily-beating alert against his senses as to Kurama's whereabouts (due to that first seal, applied so many months ago) was only just able to be stifled enough that he could think.

It was likely a Reikai mission, then. No wonder Kurama had not come back inside to warn him of his absence. Casting a glance upstairs towards the kitsune's sleeping mother, his face tightened as something unfamiliar pricked at his chest. Kurama was leaving him without his permission, yes, without even a moment's notice, without even bothering to see how he would feel about all this—

But there was trust. And something… bothered him, upon the thought that if he were to give into his urges to kill and maim, Kurama would return and there would likely be something rather close to betrayal in his gaze before it would turn to rage and Kanisawa would never be able to touch him without reprisal, again. A quiet, plunging tingle shuddered up the back of his neck at the thought, before he quashed it.

While he was heading to the kitchen to write a note for the redhead's mother, the reincarnate cursed to himself when he realized—even if it was only for a fleeting moment—that he had thought of himself as 'Kanisawa'. His fist tightened around the pen in his hand, and seething violet eyes bored into the paper as he scribbled hastily on it. Kurama would not be back by morning, he could assume. The best course of action? Assure Kurama's mother that he was safe, and beat a hasty retreat, himself. There was something in him that wanted to chase after the fox, as soon as possible, but—

The demon's eyes hooded in thought. It would be in-character for the teenager he was playing to rush recklessly after his lover, would it not? At the same time, a Reikai affair meant the presence of at least the ferry girl, and most likely also the brown-haired detective who had defeated Toguro. A small swell of gratitude greeted this thought of the Urameshi boy, but he quietly swept it aside, turning to peer pensively out the kitchen window at the darkness. There was no doubting he wished to know what Kurama was doing, without him. Perhaps it would be best to not think too much into it, and simply follow the teenage response? After all, were he truly a mere human with a high spiritual sense, he should have no fear of charging after Kurama and into the fray of one of his Reikai Tantei battles… There was the thought that he could do little in the way of assisting in the battle, of course, but it still remained that he wished to be assured of Kurama's return.

_Or is it simply guilt over the fact Kurama is going into a fight without his full strength?_

(His second seal had worked marvelously well in its intended duty of leeching ki into him for those hours the youko had been asleep, tonight, after all.)

But no, it was not worry over the youko's well-being. Kurama could handle himself.

And yet—

He _could _ensure the entire Kanisawa family would be away for the day. He could make dinner in advance, be assured Tomiko had the necessary money for lunch and that Aunt Kumi would be away from the house all day at an engagement. Wasn't there an expo in Tokyo, today? He could likely use their connections to gain a ticket, even so late. Uncle Junzo had a business meeting with the inferiors of his company two days from now, but that could be moved up. It was only a bureaucratic conference, after all. Ticking off the possibilities, a slow smile began to curl over his face. Yes. Yes, he could chase after Kurama. His reason? _'I felt something was wrong'_. And his reiki signature had likely evened-out by now, so he would not seem suspicious to others on whom he had not placed a seal. Chuckling to himself, the seeming teenager set the note against the coffee-maker, where Shiori would find it in the morning. Turning, he quietly padded over to the washer-dryer and frowned a little upon finding his clothes still wet. No use. Taking his cell phone (which had been carefully extracted from his pants and placed atop the kitchen table), he soon brought it to his ear. Kanisawa kept his voice low.

"I need you to come pick me up." He smiled upon receiving no excuses, just a quick assent from his driver. Excellent. "Yes, the Minamino house. If you're here in a half-hour I'll consider giving you the day off." He disconnected the call, pocketing his phone and inwardly satisfied that he didn't need to bother to tell the man to be quiet. Ascending the stairs at last, he went about gathering a few things. Firstly, he took out one of Kurama's uniforms (jacket, undershirt, pants and socks), followed quickly by a simple white button-down, black pants and a tie. He changed quickly into this second outfit, trying not to get too caught up in the fox's scent which was particularly heavy around the collar. These extra precautions would do well to convince Shiori of the truth of that note. He folded his used pajamas neatly—then reconsidered, and instead tossed them on the bed hap-hazardly. There, that should look more like a teenager's style. Much as it caused him to twitch inside, he left the bed and futon unmade, grabbed a pair of socks for himself and descended the stairs, Kurama's uniform tucked safely under an arm.

Noticing at the genkan that Kurama's sneakers were gone, he paused, frowning a bit. The kitsune's brown school shoes still sat there innocently, of course, and this threw a bit of a wrench in his plans. Sighing, the demon placed the uniform aside on the couch, and went rummaging for a duffel bag, as well as jogging clothes. This completed (although it had taken a bit longer than he would have liked), he stuffed the uniform, jogging outfit and brown school shoes into the duffel and slung it over his shoulder before heading back to the kitchen. He carefully pocketed his previous note and began to scribble a new one.

_Minamino-san, I apologize for leaving like this, but Suuichi wished to go for an early jog this morning, and so I had my driver pick us up and drop him off at the Academy. I hope Kuwabara Shizuru-san will be well soon, and thank you for your hospitality in allowing me to spend the night._

Hearing a car pull up on the street outside just as he was finishing this second note, the demon smiled to himself. He slid a hand into his pocket to be assured the first note hadn't fallen out, and on his way down the hall grabbed Kurama's school bag by the handle, bringing it with him—the perfect farce. Now he only had to arrange the events for his 'family's day, and hopefully within two hours he could be headed north, following his fox. He strode briskly across the lawn to the opened door of the limo waiting for him, sliding in and glancing up at the pre-dawn sky as the door was shut behind him.

He had never missed being able to fly more than he did, right now.

"Takashi-sama, are you wishing to head—"

Cutting off his driver's question, his tone was succinct.

"Yes, home. After that, please contact Aunt Kumi's driver. He will be needed, today."

: : :

Even upon feeling Kurama's ki swell, Hiei didn't waste any time plunging right back into the fray. The fox likely _did _ have something planned, and so he would merely have to have faith in him. Yes, Kurama had a great many flaws, but at least in battle Hiei knew the fox would never let him down. Turning his mind from this, though, he narrowed his eyes at Seaman.

"_Disctract him."_ Hiei sent a pulse of assent to Kurama's telepathic comment, and gathered up his energy for another attack. His sword by itself was doing no good, and neither was the Rengoku Sho? Only one option left, then. Summoning, Hiei growled under his breath as the air began to charge from the amount of energy swirling around him. Green-black flames began to lick harmlessly at his skin, and he leveled a nasty glare on the water beast which had paused to observe him, its sightless holes for eyes widening then narrowing as it leered at him, stepping forward over the seawater until it just reached the bay. It was a pity they couldn't employ the obvious weakness that it couldn't leave the water, because Seaman himself refused to give them that opening. He didn't care for the human boy, no matter how big his eyes were. No one with any amount of morality could stand by as someone so kind as his sister was tormented. Vision blazing red again at the thought of her scream, Hiei shouted death to the beast as he raced forward as fast as he could, a boot slapping against the seawater as he leapt, raising his blazing sword high above his head and tensing his muscles for a quick end.

"Jao Ensatsu Ken!" The water hissed as it made contact with his sword and Hiei grit his teeth, willing the should-have-been quick strokes of his inflamed sword to keep their speed. The sword got caught against the water tension of the beast's glowing skin and it roared over the loud hiss of evaporating water. But it wasn't just the water—despite the heat of his flames, they were undoubtedly growing smaller upon contact with the creature. The fire demon grit his teeth in hatred and changed his angle of attack, trying to stab instead of slash. The beast roared again, but soon made to alter its body and avoid his sword even as he quickly tried to make use of this newly-discovered weakness. Apparently the heated metal also injured it, and so Hiei concentrated the green-black flames until they swirled so near the blade that it glowed like a poker. Keeping his energy burning hotly at full power, he flit from his momentary place at the creature's shoulder, trying to make cuts wherever he could. The water creature was fast, but the pain apparently made it sluggish—they could use this.

Hiei smirked as he heard a cry behind him. Had it worked, then?

: : :

Mitarai stared in fear up at the grinning face of Koenma's newest detective. Urameshi-kun had caught him off-guard as he stared in newfound awe at the fire demon's new attack. It actually seemed to be working? And such determination! Mitarai felt his heart swell in admiration for the whole of Hiei's species. Such loyalty! All for his sister? How amazing! Humans would never band together like this, any other brother would have likely run from this battle in utter fear. He could almost ignore the fact that Urameshi-kun was dragging him out of the surf, but still he began to struggle, kicking at him until he landed back in the water with a splash, the waves lapping at his ribs. After his initial plunge into the sea he'd been standing, and the salt had helped clean the wounds on his thighs. They'd already begun to clot. Quickly, he reached down under the water and ripped one scab open, ignoring the pain as well as the fact he probably shouldn't be losing any more blood. It would be worth it, to die in a fight with a youkai like Hiei! In the instant it took Urameshi to grab him again, the water rumpled and curled, and a hard watery fist thrust itself at Urameshi's cheek, enabling Mitarai to slip away.

"D-Damn, there were two?" Grinning again as he gained the upper hand once more, Mitarai scooted back into the surf—bumping into something? He glanced behind him, seeing nothing but ocean and frowned as he spotted a bit of eelgrass on his shoulder. Mitarai raised a hand to brush it off, but to his surprise it slithered away from his fingers and slid down to wrap firmly around the torn jeans fabric at the tops of his thighs. There was a voice in his ear, cool and soft.

He'd forgotten about the redhead!

"So they come from your blood. We can fix that, I think." Desperately, he tried to dive away under the waves, but two expert hands restrained his arms so he couldn't move—could do nothing but watch as more eelgrass wound around his injures snugly, like bandages. He cursed, trying to get a glare behind him and free himself.

"L-Let me go! I'll have them kill your friends!" He laughed as the little water creature he'd just created landed another punch on Urameshi and then snapped his victorious vision to where Hiei's flames were just beginning to die out. Sure, his water beast had suffered a little damage, but when he was in the ocean it just didn't matter! Throwing his head back and laughing as Hiei couldn't quite dodge a swiftly-formed punch out of nowhere—ah, water was so wonderful, with all its malleability~!—that voice in his ear was back, softer and yet somehow more threatening.

"You think they'll die that easily?" More tendrils of eelgrass swept over his body and Mitarai gave a shout for help. Hiei was once more buried in the sand, so his beast turned from the beach where it had flung him and instead bore down upon them. Mitarai grinned.

"No, but _you_ just might!" He felt the redhead behind him begin to back up, and could have almost laughed as the beast bore down upon them both, sweeping them into its arms and soon into its watery innards.

"Wh—?" As the redhead's grip on him loosened in surprise, Mitarai wriggled away and the beast quickly maneuvered itself from around Mitarai so that he was breathing the free air and standing in the surf, once more. At this point it was irrelevant that his arms were still pinned to his sides, due to that eelgrass. Pulling in a huge breath, Mitarai smirked over his shoulder at the wide green eyes floating amidst a mass of red hair—his captor-turned-captive literally caught in the belly of his beast.

"Trapped! You're trapped! There's no way you'll get out of there now, because—" Just as he turned his attention back to his two other opponents, a hard fist landed on his cheek, and he hurtled into the water. When he resurfaced by a hand buried in the yellow collar of his sweatshirt, hard brown eyes dug into him, angry and annoyed.

"Let him go. Let him go, or I swear I'll—" Urameshi didn't get to finish his sentence, as in another moment there was an explosion of green from within his water beast and both of their attentions turned to it, watching as seaweed moved to tangle through the ever-changing mass of water. Mitarai could feel his beast stiffening involuntarily, its movements stilling even as a cone of seaweed seemed to tunnel into its chest, a clear—if slightly breathless—voice ringing out from it.

"Get him out of the water, Yuusuke! Knock him out!" The cone of seaweed tried to grow, and he could feel his beast fighting back, making the tunnel of air disappear. Mitarai smiled, even as he was dragged towards the beach, Hiei flitting to fight with the smaller water creature to prevent it from interfering with Urameshi. His larger one yet attempted to move despite the seaweed holding it mostly still, trying to step into position to keep Mitarai from being taken away. As the beast began to show signs of victory, the seaweed receding a bit—meaning that the redhead must be running out of air!—he let loose a laugh, even as he felt drier sand brush against his jeans.

"You'll never do it in time! He's done for! You—"

A brusing fist in his gut was all Mitarai knew before everything went black.

: : :

Still a bit dizzy from the lack of air, Kurama landed wobbly on his feet, teetering to the side before a damp, bristly cone of hair poked him under the chin. Rubbing the salt covering his eyelids away, the kitsune blinked down and fought a small fond smile as he found one of his arms over Hiei's shoulders. The fire demon was looking resolutely away as he helped him over to where the blond boy lay facedown on the beach. Yuusuke breathed a sigh of relief, falling back to sprawl on the sand and Kurama found he had to chuckle, taking a careful place beside his friend. Yuusuke turned his head to watch him and grinned a little, giving the V-sign.

"Good job, foxy. Ugh!" He thrust the heels of his hands into his eyes, groaning loudly. "Hiei don't kill him, we need him to find Yukina." Covering the resulting almost-smile politely with his hand, Kurama cast an amused glance to the fire demon glowering a little ways away, sword still held tightly in his hand. Hiei turned away, then, scarcely sparing another glance for the pair as he stalked over to regain his cloak and then disappeared.

Kurama wasn't too worried, though. Hiei wouldn't go far—not with Yukina's safety at stake. Sighing to himself, he cast another glance towards the blond boy lying facedown beside him, forehead creasing a hint in confusion.

_What is a human doing with these sort of powers, it's—_

_Ah._

He blinked, noticing the narrowed brown eyes upon him, at last.

"Yes?" Pushing himself up to sit, Indian-style, the detective thrust a finger at him from his side of the unconscious human they'd managed to apprehend.

"Something ain't right with you, and hasn't been for a while. Spill." Summoning his best reassuring smile—only to have it falter as Yuusuke's stare just hardened—the redhead sighed, looking away and absently raising a hand to try to comb some of the larger sea-salt granules out of his hair, voice quiet.

"It's my own issue, Yuusuke. You needn't worry over it." He knew Yuusuke wouldn't be satisfied with that answer, but Kurama could at least _attempt_ to keep him out of it.

He had a feeling Hiei would prefer to keep what had transpired between them private, as well.

: : :

In a tree far enough from the beach that it was out of earshot, Hiei sat, leaned against the trunk and scowling quietly in frustration at the bluish glow of his sister's hiruiseki in his palm, oblivious to the sunrise which had started to light the sky above. Now that the fight was over, something bothered him in the back of his mind about that pattern he'd seen imprinted on Kurama's cheek. There was a slight strange ki emanating from it—enough that he knew it was invisible to the fox. Well, _obviously. _Kurama was too vain to have something like that be obvious on his face. What peaked his curiosity, though, was the fact that the writing was ancient Makaian.

Much like the grassroots kanji sometimes employed in Japanese writing (Kurama had old-Japanese copies of such classics as the _Genji Monogatari_ in his bookshelf at home, otherwise the subject would have never come up and Hiei would have never known of this), this particular style was very specific to a certain time period in Makai history. If he concentrated, Hiei could feel the hum of two other wards on the fox, although they were hidden from view (the one on his elbow by cloth, and the one on the back of his neck by hair). He couldn't discern the true nature of them without being able to read ancient Makaian, however—but one seemed to function as a ki-blocker? One that rendered a certain presence invisible to the wearer?

Hiei tried not to think of all the times over the past six months that he'd considered heading back to Kurama's neighborhood, hoping his ki signature would speak enough of his presence that Kurama would seek him out. So, then. Kurama had been determined to move on? _Good_, he thought fiercely, ignoring the small thread of doubt curling uncomfortably in his throat. There was nothing Hiei would give him, anyway. It was best that Kurama had rendered Hiei's ki signature invisible to him, for a time. Although he'd obviously required help, as his own ki would do no good to activate it on himself… Kuwabara or Genkai hadn't helped him, no, it wasn't their reiki pulsing from those invisible patterns.

_Then who?_

A thought that Kurama had met someone else who could do this for him entered into his head, and Hiei ground his teeth. Well, fine then! Let that damned youko go find someone else to bother and deceive, Hiei'd have no part of it. What did he care that Kurama had reeked of someone else, it'd been long enough that he didn't give a rat's ass over what the fox chose to do.

Afrer this, Yukina would be returned to Genkai's, and they would again cease contact.

Some part of him _wasn't_ glad to see Kurama looking well after all this time, that Kurama apparently was _unaffected_ by his absence— No, that wasn't right. Hiei _was_ glad that his initial predictions had been correct, that they would both live through this separation.

Perhaps things could go back to the way they'd been, before this whole unneccessary emotional mess?

—Not that he'd _missed_ Kurama's presence thrumming familiarly at his side.

~*~To Be Continued~*~


End file.
